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zazzander · 3 years

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Who supported Octavian?

Looking for more? Here's my master list of Octavian analysis.

We know that Octavian had enough support in the legion concievably get elected praetor. Then, enough support to force Reyna's hand and pursue the Seven.

But it's never state who those people are (except Michael). So I've decided to go through and see if I can work out some possible supporters.

Let's start with minor characters:

Likely Supporters

Lynda, legionary, Second Cohort; chatterbox

Carl, legionary, 2nd or 3rd

Reza, legionary, 2nd or 3rd

Marcus, legionary, unknown; possibly a spy for Nero, old friend of Jason

Ida, senator & centurion, Second Cohort; kinda haughty, isn't impressed by Apollo showing up in Camp Jupiter

Likely Against Octavian

Bobby, legionary, likely Fifth Cohort

Thomas, legionary, Fifth Cohort

Gwen, centurion, Fifth Cohort; can be assumed to not support Octavian

Colum, legionary, unknown, seems to be loyal to Frank

Jacob, standard bearer, Fifth Cohort; may or may not support Octavian, since he's a member of the Fifth, I say "not"

Leila, centurion, Fourth Cohort; very anti-Octavian

Michael Kahale - Supporter

Duh.

Michael is an easy one. He's introduced in Blood of Olympus but he's probably one of Octavian's "bodyguards" prior to that. He's centurion of the First and Reyna describes him as "very loyal". Octavian is also his sponsor (a translation of "patron" I'm assuming).

Larry & Hank - Supporters

Larry: Second Cohort, Senator & Centurion | Later: Third Cohort, Senator

Hank: Third Cohort, Senator & Centurion

I'll mention these two together. In Son of Neptune, they are seated next each other at the Senate meeting. Hank raises an objection about the Fifth Cohort taking on the quest.

Larry then seconds the comment. It's possible, even likely, that Octavian prepped them both beforehand. They are acting in accordance to Octavian's agenda. See my theory regarding that.

We see nothing of Hank post this point, and it's possible he died at Camp Half Blood. Or against the zombie army.

As for Larry, his position is interesting. When we see him again in Tyrant's Tomb, he's still a Senator, but he's now a member of the Third Cohort.

A different senator raised his hand. 'Uh, Senator Larry here, Third Cohort, son of Mercury. [...]"

It’s possible Reyna redistributed Octavian’s supporters into the various Cohorts to reduce their strength and allegiance. Legionaries still listen to his commands. This either means that he's now centurion of the Third Cohort or, possibly, he simply still has their loyalty.

Meg stumbled to my side, breathing hard, her swords glistening with monster goo. “Hey, Larry. How’s it going?”

“Terrible!” Larry sounded delighted. “Carl, Reza—escort these two to Praetor Zhang immediately.”

“YESSIR!” Our escorts hustled us off toward the Caldecott Tunnel, while behind us, Larry called his troops back to action: “Come on, legionnaires! We’ve drilled for this. We’ve got this!” [The Tyrant’s Tomb]

He calls himself "Senator Larry", not "centurion". And while he can be striped of his centurion position during the transfer. He can't be stripe of his position of Senator, since it's an elected post. And senators hold the role for a year.

[side note: he seems to be pretty gleeful when it comes to battle - so he wouldn't be against the war]

There's another point:

[Larry speaking] "So, when you say help, do you mean like ... battalions of gods charging down here in their chariots, or more like the gods just giving us their blessing, like, Hey, good luck with that, legion!?' [The Tyrant’s Tomb]

I’m going to take the word ‘blessing’ and run with it. Octavian was given Apollo’s ‘blessing’ and ended up dying. So Larry is very hesitant to support Apollo here. He's been there, done that.

[Remember Frank also got a blessing, from Mars, but Larry's doubt aligns more with Octavian's failure]

Dakota - Neutral

Dakota is an interesting one. I think he's ultimately neutral and has loyal to both Octavian and Reyna. Note, just because he might support Octavian doesn't mean they necessarily he didn't support Reyna. The two of them are ostensibly working together, and its only right at the end of Blood of Olympus when the legionaries have to choose one or the other. (Obviously Dakota chooses Reyna)

“I was just lucky to find Hazel… in New Orleans, I mean.”

Dakota grunted. “Unless you believe the rumours. Not saying that I do.”

“Rumours?” Percy asked. [Son of Neptune]

Here: Dakota has heard the rumours, the same ones related to Octavian’s blackmail. He even brings them up.

Dakota is then seen fighting against the Seven in Mark of Athena. He is mentioned by name - which is important. It means he's an active participant in this scenario, rather than a by-stander. He's dispatched rather easily.

Jason stood about fifty yards away, sword-fighting with a stocky centurion whoe lips were stained cherry red, like blood. A wannabe vampire, or maybe a KoolAid freak?

As Annabeth watched, Jason yelled, "Sorry about this, Dakota!"

Onto Blood of Olympus,

“We are at war,” Michael said. “We have to pull together. Dakota and Leila have not been the most enthusiastic supporters. Octavian have them this one last chance to prove themselves. If they help me bring you in – preferably alive, but dead if necessary – then they keep their rank and prove their loyalty.” [BOO]

This reasoning seems odd to me. Octavian might have sent them because he believed Reyna would respond to them to best. Reyna seems to have a good opinion of all three emissaries. But he also had to be under the belief that at least 2 out of 3 of them would be loyal enough to bring Reyna back to the legion. To actually try and sway her. Octavian knows Reyna's influence.

And while Leila is firmly in the anti-Octavian camp. I don't think Dakota necessarily was.

“Yeah.” Dakota nodded vigorously. “The legion’s not nearly as united as Michael claimed. We don’t trust all the auxilia forces Octavian has gathered.” [Blood of Olympus]

From the perspective of Dakota, he needs to show his loyalty to Reyna. He has just betrayed Octavian, who he has been supporting on the front lines previously (Mark of Athena). He must convince Reyna that he has been "on her side" since the beginning.

But, we can see that Dakota isn’t actually fully onboard a little later...

“We’ll need a distraction,” Reyna said. “Something to delay the attack on Camp Half-Blood and preferably put those weapons out of commission. Dakota, Leila, will your cohorts follow you?”

“I – I think so, yes,” Dakota said. “But if we ask them to commit treason–”

“It isn’t treason,” Leila said. “Not if we’re acting on direct orders from our praetor. And Reyna is still praetor.” [Blood of Olympus]

Dakota is still thinking in a way that shows he’s loyal to both sides. He’s chosen to follow Reyna, but unlike Leila, he’s not all in.

“Alright, but I’m not hurting any of my fellow legionnaires.”

“No one’s asking you to,” Nico growled. “But if we don’t stop this war the entire legion will be wiped out. You said the monster tribes take insult easily?” [Blood of Olympus]

Dakota and Nico are actually arguing over this. I believe Dakota includes Octavian in this ‘fellow legionnaires’.

But also, Dakota and Leila’s actions directly result in the deaths of several members of their cohorts. Recall, Octavian’s plans involved no Roman deaths. And we know that the monsters aren’t actually that bad.

So I can’t help but think, post the battle, Dakota felt guilty about his actions yet couldn’t air that. Not that he wanted the Greeks to die, but did he do the right thing? Could he have avoided those deaths somehow?

I believe Dakota didn’t intend for Octavian to die in the battle. He included Octavian in his "my fellow legionnaires". But Octavian ended up dying. And Nico was there. The person Dakota trusted with the other side of the plan.

Finally, Dakota, long-time centurion of the Fifth Legion, had died overnight from wounds he received fighting in the city.

Dakota served a long time as centurion. He likely remembered a time when Jason, Reyna and Octavian worked together as allies and friends.

So, for me, Dakota is a character who was suddenly thrust into a messy divorce between Reyna and Octavian, not knowing which side to take. Feeling guilty regardless. And later succumbing to an addiction as a coping mechanism.

Summary

Anyway, outside of the "neutral" Dakota. Octavian seems to have had the First, Second, and Third Cohorts in his pocket. Our main characters hail from the Fifth, so we get their perspective, which is one of hatred and distrust. But for at least half the legion, Octavian is someone they are willing to back.

[We obviously don't know their motivations for doing this]

[Editted: Turns out in the UK it's "fruit punch" and the US it's "Kool-Aid". Apparently the Son of Neptune version I have uses the American version, while my library's copy of Tyrant's Tomb is for the UK. The curse of being Australian lol]

#octavian pjo #octavian analysis #octavian hoo #heroes of olympus #hoo analysis #camp jupiter #octavian #pjo hoo toa #trials of apollo #wait does fruit punch even smell?

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sickoherd · 3 years

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RICK GRIMES — take him home

fluff

request: “Okay if you’re taking requests for Rick can I request something for Rick and Reader where Reader finds a puppy and they both adopt the little fella? Could you maybe concentrate on Rick on how he reacts to this? 👀” — requested by @positive-squid

era: alexandria, pre-negan

author note: i’m not sure how I feel about this, but I love the request and I hope I did it a bit of justice! feel free to request more <3

warnings !! mention of walkers, swearing

You were incredibly lucky finding Alexandria, and couldn’t be more grateful for it. The safe haven gave you hope. Hope for a better future.

For yourself, for Rick and Carl and Judith.

Going on runs at first was a bit of struggle, due to the Alexandrians not completely trusting you. Aiden was an asshole who didn’t actually know what he was doing, and Deanna just wouldn’t let you go out without him or Nicholas.

It pissed Rick off too, but he tried not to argue too much and just wanted to ‘blend in’. He wanted everyone to keep an eye out, and so if anything bad happened your group could get out of the situation as the survivors. At least, that’s what he told you and Carl one night.

After a month or so, you started to slowly gain the trust of some people at Alexandria. And another month after that, you were finally allowed to manage others runs or go by yourself. You were delighted when Deanna told you the news that night, and the next day you were up at dawn preparing for your run. By all this time you and the group had come to realise Alexandria wasn’t a threat, and was actually a safe haven.

Your first run alone was successful, and you got lots of supplies. That day you’d gone to sneak into a small pharmacy, and gathered bandages and other medical supplies along with some clothes you found in another small shop. Later in the evening, after having deer that Daryl had hunted, you started trying to convince Rick to take a break and come out with you the next time. It took lots of effort, and after some helpful encouragement from Carl, he agreed.

Rick finally took his break a week later, and went on the run with you. The two of you went to a gas station on the side of the road first, and managed to find a load of petrol in some barrels. They wouldnt fit in the small car you brought, so you simply rolled them into a bush out of sight from any passing eyes.

“I’ll come back here with someone later to get it.” You told Rick as the both of you were getting back in the car. The sheriff nodded and got in the drivers seat.

On your way home, your car just… stopped. Well, it didn’t immediately stop, but when Rick tried to turn the steering wheel left, the car didn’t exactly comply. Rick got out to check what happened, and you followed shortly. He was at the hood of the car, leaning over it looking at all the parts on the inside. You started checking the tires, making sure none were slashed or punctured. And as you came to the final one, as luck would have it, it was punctured. You knelt down in front of it, and rested your head in your hands.

“Shit..” You thought to yourself, wondering what the hell had punctured it. You thought back to how smooth the road was prior to the stop, and after a few seconds you stood back up and walked round to where Rick was.

“The tire’s punctured, theres nothing we can do now.”

“Don’t we have a spare tire in the back?” Rick asked, dread filling his voice at the question he already knew the answer to.

“Better get going then.” he sighed, resting his arms on the car and shaking his head before slamming down the hood.

After walking for a good hour, it was starting to get dark and luckily you were getting closer to Alexandria. The two of you hadn’t really encountered many walkers, but the few you did were easy to take care of. You only got some blood on you, easy enough to wash. As you were getting closer, you heard a small sound from the side of the road you were walking on.

“Ya hear that?” Rick asked, as he held his hand over the hatchet on his belt. He looked over at you as he said it, keeping a side eye on the where the sound came from. You nodded at him and gripped your knife so tightly your knuckles started to pale. The two of you started approaching the sound quickly and quietly. If it was a walker, you’d want to get it by surprise.

But no, it wasnt a walker.

As you got closer, the sound started again very briefly. A barking sound?

The next thing you know, a puppy was in front of you, cowering into the bush. You melted at the sight, and Rick froze. You approached the puppy slowly, and coaxed it out of the bush softly. He laid down on his back, begging you with his eyes to rub his belly.

“Oh my God!” you started, rubbing his belly and looking up at Rick with a smile on your face.

“He’s definitely coming home with us!” You picked up the puppy and stood up, taking him to Rick so he could see him.

“Look how precious! Here hold him!” You passed him to Rick, and he took him from you gently. The puppy started giving Rick kisses, and he laughed. Your heart was officially a puddle, watching how sweet Rick was with the new addition to your family.

The look of happiness on your face was enough to convince Rick, and the face of the puppy just added to it.

“He can come home with us.” Rick laughed, cuddling the small puppy in his much larger arms.

#rick grimes imagines #rick grimes #twd masterlist #twd fanfiction #rick grimes fluff #my heart #walkers #alexandria #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #y/n #x reader #twd x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader

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ayamturd · 3 years

Note

If you're still doing color requests, I'd love to see your take with Techno and #005370! Even if you don't, I hope you're doing well :)

prussian storm│technoblade

warnings: self doubt, hurt/comfort, fluff (unedited)

pairing: in-game romantic!techno

a/n: so sorry this has taken so long to get out, i loved the color concept but just didn't have the time to execute it fully

ty for being so kind, i hope you enjoy <3

‘colors’ m.list

“Cold?”

Without turning to face him, you watched as the condensed breath escaped you, the heat leaving your lips vulnerable in the burning cold.

“Of course not.”

The day, bright by the reflected sun cast in the blinding snow, greeted you in an icy chill. No words could express the environment you lived in besides cold, the constant chill an adjustment you have yet to normalize towards.

Though you tried to play off your severe vulnerability to the dangerous temperatures of the Artic, it was difficult to complain regardless considering Technoblade’s effortless acclimation; his biology and hybrid genealogy played greatly into his comfort in his isolated home, something you envied and simultaneously enjoyed.

While you would never experience the same level of mobility or solace, it only added more to how much you relied on your nightly cuddles. By the gods and their mercy, there were moments in your continuous torture where you were granted such luxury in easement, and they were always in given affections by your lover.

Technoblade, both warm from the heat of the Nether and large in promised security, was your saving grace beyond declaration. It was near ironic how you viewed him as the eye within the hurricane when he faired reason to why you entered the storm in the first place.

“Are you sure? You’re shiverin’.”

Pride was a deadly sin, one frowned upon yet easily enticing to give in towards, especially when the price of dignity held reason. You could say yes, accept your weakened state, and be happily received in warmth and care; yet there was something so damning about admitting defeat to mother nature in her cruel weather.

There was the fear that in admitting defeat, you were acknowledging the case that you couldn’t remain strong in the presence of your lover. A warrior who faced no obstacles in daily excursions.

A fighter who shouldn’t stop to fret over the cold.

“I’m fine,” you scowled, voice tight in irritation. Whether that be by his probing or the freezing temperatures remained lost to you. Technoblade raised his hands up in surrender to appease as you continued. “How far are we from the shore anyway?”

With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he watched the horizon from where the sun slowly rose. Eyes narrowed with wisps of hair to boarder, he was radiant in his moment of concentration. Small murmurs could be heard as he calculated your path by the sky, the trade winds and sun’s position aiding the quick journey’s timetable and where the destination laid at hand.

He was in his element, and looked heavenly as the winter wind brushed his features softly.

“Not far,” he concluded. “Just over this last mound should do it.”

Nodding, you moved wordlessly ahead of him, anxious to meet him there.

The previous day, in the late evening over a pleasant stew for dinner, Technoblade had suggested taking you on a short walk in the morning, something to do with winter soon breaking into spring. Had you known in future times and looked beyond your devotion for him, you would have said no because this now was nothing resembling short.

You were miserable as you hiked in the thick snow, fingers numb under the gloves that engulfed your hands and boots stiff from the ache that weighed your feet down.

More often than not, you chose to reside in your shared cabin home, biding minuscule tasks or assisting Phil in his projects. Even then, if you were to leave the house, you were always accompanied by Carl or your own horse.

It was to your surprise when you approached the makeshift stable morning of that you wouldn’t be taking either horses, the destination’s ground too uneven for the strong steeds.

That should have been your first warning.

The walk was treacherous, and although Technoblade was nothing short of considerate throughout the ways of the journey, your patience was as thin as the recent snow fall’s gathering.

With a large huff, you centered your balance in the final push up the stiff hill. The harsh inhale of cool air scorched your lungs, and as you eventually gathered your breath, you only looked up to be speechless once more.

You had seen the ocean before, having crossed the precarious trip originally to live by Technoblade’s side, yet it was something so different now compared to past view.

The waves, large in each fold and height, were dangerously alluring in all beauty and sight. It was, truly, magnificent by each and every curvature that crashed and melded into a newfound wave against the frozen landscape.

Color shifted in hue to the dull water's break, the deep blue endless at far as you could see beyond the horizon. Though the swell fell into a foamed white, the contrast was so striking to observe and added more to the depths of the sea.

Enamored, you failed to notice Technoblade arrive shortly behind you until a sudden weight enveloped your form.

You glanced up to meet his adored gaze, eyes soft as he regarded you currently wrapped in his own winter coat, now dressed on your shoulders.

A hand came to cup your face gently, and you instinctively lead in towards the warmth.

“Lie if you must, but I know you better than you care to admit.”

His voice was light, as if anything louder than the tides before you would threaten the moment his love forged.

Collapsing under his careful stare, you buried yourself into his arms, allowing the heat of his heart melt the frosted chill you subjected yourself to. He took you in immediately, a hand to hold your head against him as he rested his cheek to your crown

“Shut up,” you mumbled, bite nonexistent and quiet within the fabric of his shirt. His laugh resonated in your ear as you laid, and you refused to show the smile which grew from his pure delight.

“Of course, darlin’. Whatever you what.”

#mcyt x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt imagine #technoblade imagines #yams' colors

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nocapesdahling · 3 years

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As the World Falls Down - Chapter 2

Helmut Zemo x Gender Neutral Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: In which we hear a little from Helmut Zemo, the city is flying, and you find a baby. Not necessarily in that order.

Rating: Mature (17+)

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Slow Burn; Here there be angst; Accidental Child acquisition; Mentioned child neglect by others

A/N: I made myself sad while writing this chapter, knowing that certain things mentioned will never happen. Here begins the forewarned angst. Maybe once I finish this story, I’ll write a fluffy AU.

Chapter 2: Beneath a Fallen Sky (Age of Ultron) - Part 1

Word Count: 2.1k

Colonel Helmut Zemo repositioned his earpiece. He was not a man prone to fidgeting and never had been, especially on the job, but he had counted his squad after they had gotten clear of the city and they were one short.

You were missing.

His family was safe, his squad was safe, but you were not. While he kept his expression neutral, inside was a different story. You had to be here somewhere. You just had to be. He would not accept any other outcome. Once they arrived at their base outside the city, he searched room after room and asked person after person and could not find you. You were not in the Mission Control Room or in your workshop fiddling with your gadgets. You did not seem to be anywhere, which meant that he had to consider the idea of you still being in the city.

“Q, come in Q. Where are you? Branko is in need of you. He broke his new infrared glasses and Ana tore her body armor. Don’t ask me how she did it, darling. We thought it was indestructible, but you know Ana. She took that as a challenge.” He let a hint of his desperation show in his voice. “Q, please come in.”

All Zemo heard was static before a voice, your voice, answered and he breathed out in relief. “Hey, Boss.” you started haltingly. You sounded tired and out of breath. “Well, I’m still in the city.” Here, you paused and Helmut’s hand clenched into a fist. “We’re in the air, Helmut... I don’t know if I’m going to make it. You’ll have to give Carl his birthday gift from me. I think he’ll like it.”

His smile was filled with clenched teeth and looked more like a grimace. “Even now, you joke, my Q. Even now.”

__________________

You held back a sob at the pain you could hear in his voice.

You had been meant to rendezvous with the rest of your squad at the checkpoint, but had stopped as you passed an orphanage. You thought you had heard a baby crying, but that couldn’t be right. The orphanage looked to be and should be empty. You strained your ears, knowing you couldn’t leave a baby or a child there to die. There it was again, a baby’s cry. You knew your squad was long gone, but you reassured yourself with the thought that you could easily catch up with them after you saved the baby.

You searched through the rooms on the lower floor before finding one with cribs. No baby was in sight. You paused, hearing fighting and chaos outside. Knowing that you had to move quickly, you hoped for another cry. Just as you were about to dig out your infrared glasses from your pack, there it was again. There was a cry coming from behind some hospital style curtains. You pushed them aside and found what looked like a newborn baby or close to it, abandoned before their life could even start.

You didn’t have much experience with kids, but hoped your time as a babysitter would help somewhat. You had been the babysitter for the family with twins that lived in the apartment complex a few blocks over. They had been cute kids, a boy and a girl, but they weren’t babies. You had been on the job when their apartment was bombed and heard the news afterwards. Even with your connections, you had no luck in finding out what happened to them. You assumed they died alongside their parents and mourned them accordingly. You were never able to bring yourself to watch The Dick Van Dyke Show anymore. It brought back too many memories.

You picked the baby up and cradled her to your chest as she blinked her eyes up at you. Well then, maybe not as newborn as you had supposed. Her eyes had already settled on a color that was close to your own. It was a bit uncanny. You smiled at her, tickling heir stomach as you checked her diaper. You crinkled your nose at the smell. “I see that’s why you’re crying, little one. Let me fix that for you.”

You laid the baby down to change her when her eyes scrunched up and she let out an almighty wail. “Oh my, little one. What strong lungs you have. What about a song? How does that sound, hmm?”

The baby continued to cry and squirm, and you knew this needed to be done quickly as the sounds of fighting had escalated outside and you didn’t want the robots to be alerted to your presence.

You began to sing, “We have been waiting for you. Now you are here. More perfect than I imagined. Our house is now a home. No matter where you go. Sunlight shines on you.” You sang the lullaby again as the baby stopped crying and blinked sleepily.

“There. All done. I’m glad you liked it, though I don’t know if I’m much of a singer. My mother used to sing it to me. You should hear my friend sing. He has such a lovely deep voice and my godson loves it when he sings ‘Baa, Baa, Black Sheep’. I’m sure they’ll both be excited to meet you.”

You smiled down at her and searched the room, finding a baby carrier hidden behind some blankets and formula in the fridge in the next room over. You lifted the baby and put her in the carrier, strapping it to your chest and chatting idly all the while. You noted that she must be around 4 to 5 months old as she supported her own head just fine. You fed her the formula, mopping up her chin, and prepared yourself to go outside. You positioned yourself by the window, gun in hand and infrared glasses in place. There didn’t seem to be any robots in the vicinity at the moment, which meant that it was time to leave and catch up with your squad. You checked the baby one last time and were glad to see that she was still asleep.

You were ready. You stepped outside the orphanage and started to jog in the same direction you were going earlier, doing your best not to jostle the baby. Maybe, you could get through this and get both you and your little charge to safety. Maybe, you would see Helmut again. Then, the street behind you began to splinter and crumble and the ground gave a great lurch. The city had begun to rise from the ground.

__________________

You debated what to do and came up with some semblance of a plan that had at least a 65% success rate. That was not in the least bit promising, but it was better than the 0% chance you had if you stayed here. You needed to get you and your new passenger off the city somehow, and this was the only plan you had thought of so it would have to do.

You had ducked down in an alley that you recognized as not too far from one of your favorite cafes when your phone began to ring. Quickly, you picked it up and answered it with a brief glance at the caller ID. It was Helmut. __________________

“... Even now, you joke, my Q. Even now.”

“Well, Helmut, you know me. Always look on the bright side of life, even when the city is flying and you’re carrying an orphaned baby.”

“A baby, Q?” His tone was disbelieving and you could picture what he would have said if he were here in front of you. “Only you, Q, could get yourself into this mess. For someone so intelligent, you can be kind to the point of stupidity. I admire it as I admire you, but you must not let your compassion come before your safety.”

“Yes, Helmut. A baby. I think I’ll call her Alena. Maybe give her Heike as a middle name. What do you think? Oh, and you’ll be the godparents of course?”

You could hear Helmut let out a heavy breath and the slight hitch in his voice when he answered. “We’d be honored, Q. Heike will be thrilled and Carl will love having a new playmate. They’ll be like brother and sister I’m certain, eating Turkish Delights even when I’ve specifically told them not to.”

You laughed a bit wetly. “That’ll be nice. If we can get out of the city. We have something to look forward to. Cavities galore.”

He laughed and when he spoke his voice was softer than normal. “You’ve always had a soft heart, darling Q. My friend, I told you that your compassion might get you killed one day.” There it was. You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist commenting on what he sometimes thought of as a weakness of yours. You also knew that he wouldn’t have you any other way. He sounded composed over the line, but you knew him well enough to know that he was suppressing everything and trying to hold it back for you to keep your focus on your current situation.

On the other side of the phone, Zemo was glad that he was alone so no one could see their leader fighting to keep his emotions contained. Now was not the time to be showing weakness in front of his squad. They needed him controlled and composed.

You were the only member of his squad that he could be soft with anyway.

“I guess you were right, Boss. I guess you were right. But I’m going to do my best to make sure that today’s not that day.” You paused, holding in a sob. If you weren’t careful and if your plan didn’t succeed, then today would be that day.

Over the course of the conversation, you had been walking as fast as you could, without jostling Alena too much, in the direction of your apartment that was luckily in the center of the city. You dodged more robots, and had the brief thought that whoever had made these things had to be compensating for something.

Why else would they have made so many?

You continued, mustering your nerve as you finally came in sight of your apartment. “I love you, Helmut. You know that, right?”

“I love you too, my Q.” He responded without hesitation.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Helmut. The absolute best. Give my love to Carl and Heike.”

You had reached your apartment as the robots all began to fly towards the bridge side of the city, leaving the way clear for you. “Goodbye, Helmut Zemo. Use that exploding pen at least once for me, won’t you?”

With that, you ended the call and turned off your earpiece. You wanted to spare him what could be your final moments and selfishly did not want to hear a goodbye from him. It might be cruel of you to not give him the closure you now had, but a goodbye from him felt too final. It meant you would never see him or the little smiles he gave you, when he didn’t think it would be professional to laugh at your little asides during mission briefings, again.

Just the thought of never seeing Helmut smile or hearing him laugh again made your tears fall, which you quickly wiped away before they could hit Alena. You brushed your fingers through her baby fine hair and checked on her. “Still asleep, little one? It’s been a hard day for us and it’s about to get harder, but that’s okay because I have a plan.” Your eyes filled with determination as you walked towards your apartment’s makeshift workshop. You had just the project in mind for this.

__________________

You were unaware that in your squad’s base, Zemo was staring at his phone in horrified disbelief. You had hung up on him, and he was unable to help you from here. He was a powerful man, and this feeling of powerlessness both stunned and devastated him.

He could not save you.

Zemo threw the phone, smashing it against the wall, and screamed your name. Not Q, but your full name, the name he hadn’t called you in years. He received only silence in return. He trashed the room until his hands were bloody and as he fell to the ground, he finally allowed his anguish to break free and sobbed. He had not cried like this in years. The destruction of the room and his tears weren’t enough.

Nothing would ever be enough again.

He did the only thing he could do as he recalled your last words. “I will, my Q. I promise.”

Tag List: @rumblelibrary

A/N: I couldn’t help myself with the reference to the Maximoffs. The Sokovian lullaby is the translated version of the one Wanda sings in WandaVision. Please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for this series.

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shimmershae · 3 years

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Just a few random thoughts and observations about Daryl’s Origins episode.

Basically my stream of consciousness bullshit brought over from Twitter, lol. I almost didn’t watch the episode after seeing all the drama over there, but ultimately I decided to because frankly? I don’t trust certain fans’ perceptions of events. For reasons. It’s best, I feel, to always watch with your own eyes and form your own independent opinions because this fandom is teeming with people that delight in tormenting other fans by being very selective and oftentimes downright misrepresentative about what they pass along.

More under the cut because this is random and all over the place and basically excerpts of my live blogging while watching the special. Did I mention it’s random?

You know. It sure would be nice not going into one of these things so apprehensive. Maybe one day, hmm?

First things first. From the very beginning of this Origins episode, I’m reminded of two things: 1). Our introduction to Daryl, his colorful Dixonese, and his particular brand of humor certainly stands out as one of show's more memorable introductions. 2). TWD certainly regressed on the deer front. I mean. Daryl's deer>Richonne's deer.

I’m never going to get over "On Golden Pond." Never ever and look. I actually liked Dale but Daryl spitting those words at him still makes me laugh until I'm weak.

Daryl's still searching all these years later. Or is he? Really? Seems to me the man's found exactly what he's been looking for and he's been chasing it since he came back from those woods: a future with his soulmate. The one that happens to be his best friend. OFC, I’m talking about Carol. Who else?

How pretty and soft are baby Daryl and Carol? Too pretty and soft for this tired heart to withstand. Like I love all versions of them, but baby Daryl and Carol just hit different.

My immediate thought re: the Beth comment-- Misreads the situation? WTF? Whoever wrote this script just had to re-inject some eww into the narrative didn't they? All those damn dirty spoons. Ever think about how much it probably reeks in that office space?

Moving along, though. Here’s some real facts. Carol is so intrinsically woven into the fabric of Daryl's story, the only way she can be removed is if they are literally both destroyed and cease to exist. Something happens to Carol? The man is going to be a reanimated body without a heartbeat. Basically a Walker.

An aside, I know they're not making me rewatch a scene I haven't watched since the first time it aired. The way Negan's head bashing tendencies had me seeing red and wanting that barbed wire bat shoved up his ass every time I saw his face. My JDM love really took a serious hit for awhile. I'm never going to forgive the character that hateful act. I just can't.

Somehow I wasn't expecting this to be a teleprompter-fest. Like who wrote this script? Hmm. Sorry. Don't mind me. Lost in my thoughts per usual. You know. It still strikes me as hella insensitive that Rick had Daryl leading the Sanctuary community knowing what he suffered there. There's no way Daryl would have returned that kind of favor.

Yep. Leah still feels tacked on last minute. A means to an end. Sigh. They completely glossed her over here. Too bad they had that lapse in judgment with some other toxic waste. I cannot believe they touched that with a ten foot pole. It's just cringe-worthy and wrong.

"Daryl can't say no to Carol." They say those words and I’m like “Join the club, my dude. Join the club, lol.”

You know. All the Carol-related moments in this Daryl Dixon recap speak for themselves. She's his person, dammit.

Okay though. That reunion in the tall grass with the sun shining on them all golden and picturesque, after Alpha’s taken Daryl to show him her horde? That's some romance novel shit right there. "Look at me. Just look at me." I'm never going to recover from that moment or the discovery of Sophia. They break my heart so.

This recap is literally 2/3's Carol and the other 1/3 Rick and everybody else. I mean. It's so obvious. Utterly and completely misrepresented by some agenda-driven folks.

"We have a future." Oh. Just some pretty, meaningless words you say everyday to all your friends, lol. Just friends my whole entire ass.

"I'm never gonna hate you." Okay, AMC. Back up all the talk with some action that even the most willfully blind cannot deny, m'kay? Because they're not going to buy it until you're explicit about it. Just saying.

The amount of times "Carol" has left this man's mouth during this recap, lol, and some people keep wanting to ignore it.

Aww. Guess who they showed when Daryl mentioned family? How sweet. And when they mentioned purpose in connection with C0nnie, it was not any indication of romance, IMHO.

Let me explain.

By the time C0nnie is lost, Daryl’s floundering because he feels he hasn’t been able to help Carol despite giving it all and pushing back his previously established comfort zone(s). Enter these pair of sisters. And they put him in mind of the good parts of him and Merle. Probably they make him remember the Greene girls when things were good and hopeful before they went sideways. In some small way, he’s probably reminded of other family units like Rick and Carl and Lori and Carol and Sophia and later Henry. And all of those people have something in common. Well, besides being people Daryl has known and cared for. They’ve seen their family units fractured and/or destroyed by tragedies wrought by the world they live in. They made a point and emphasized that Daryl’s a searcher and also that family matters to him. In some way or form he’s been doing his best to help repair or reunite all these different family members since the beginning and ultimately he’s failed to succeed each time. So yeah. He’s been given a purpose in a time of uncertainty again with her because this time he’s determined to get it right. This time he wants to bring the two sisters back together the way he couldn’t do for the Greene girls. Like I did not, do not read anything romantic at all into that comment. Just my take on things. Obviously, everyone else’s mileage may vary. I’ll step off my soapbox now. Hopefully, maybe these words might comfort.

So relax, lovelies. It wasn't as bad as I feared. Sure, they could have left that one icky comment out but they didn't and honestly? I don't think it's a positive for that particular 'relationship' because it's something that's brought up to show just how messed up Daryl was. Because grown men that have their heads on straight don't usually have those type of misreads. They know they are inappropriate. Like I'm not putting Daryl into the pedo category because I don't feel like he belongs there. But I can see how him being so emotionally stunted and naive so far as interpersonal relationships and the nuances of friendship and non-toxic family could lend itself to him maybe reading more into those moments than were really there and not really knowing how to deal.

Whoever wrote that teleprompter script though? That particular asshole is probably grinning like a donkey with a mouth full of briars at all the unnecessary drama they stirred up yet again. Like newsflash, goober. There are better ways to foster interest in your show.

They should hire a team of fans to do the promotion. Fans that represent all factions of this fractured fandom so the promotion is well-rounded and not so heavily slanted toward any one of them but the diverse fandom as a whole.

Stop fanning the stupid ship wars and just celebrate the damn characters and the overall story. Nothing new or groundbreaking to see on this first Origins story but hey. Who doesn't mind a decent recap now and then? That said, don't sweat not having AMC+ or feel like you missed all that much because you didn't.

I do have to say. Them pretending B3th was the first girl to be nice to Daryl really had me going WTF.

I mean, there’s this little exchange from Carol, the first woman to be nice to Daryl, probably the first person from the group--

"You're every bit as good as them. Every bit."

AMC? TWD? Do you even watch your own show?

There you have it. My bullshit stream of consciousness, originally posted over on Twitter as I liveblogged the show. Hope you got something helpful or of entertainment value from this.

Goodnight, lovelies.

Until next time.

#The Walking Dead #The Walking Dead: Origins #Daryl Dixon #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

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noladyme · 4 years

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My Only Sunshine - Chapter 7

Liv is as human as they come – faults and all. After a dark experience in her past, she is determined to live life on her own terms, and never let anyone claim her as theirs again. This becomes an issue, when she meets a 1000-yearold vampire, who is dead-set on claiming her as his own.

CHAPTER 6

The first blow to my face, as Thomas tried to wake me up from my drug induced state, was so hard that I immediately came too. He wanted me awake for what he had planned.

“There she is”, he smiled. “This isn’t exactly how I’d imagined this going; but beggars can’t be choosers… Here, look this way…”. He held up his camera, to take a picture of us together. My body felt limp, and my head fell to his shoulder. “Thomas, please…”, I croaked. He snapped the photo, just as I said please; and turned the camera around, so I could see myself on the small screen. “Look, such a pretty smile”. His voice was breathy, as he leaned in to put his lips to my temple.

I tilted my head to avoid the gesture, when Thomas grabbed a hold of my hair to hold me in place. I was shaking from fear, on top of whatever drug he had given me. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. You know there’s something here”, Thomas said. “No. I don’t want this…”. He struck me across the face, and I felt a trickle of blood run into my eye from my eyebrow. For a moment, Thomas’ expression softened, as if he was surprised by his own action. Then he got on his feet, and began pacing the ground before me.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?”, he growled. “Here, I’ve been the perfect gentleman, doing the right thing, asking you on dates, and keeping other men away from you; so you’d understand, that you belong to me…”. I used what little strength I had to crawl backwards. In the distance, I saw the back door to the club; almost in a fog. I just had to make it there, get someone’s attention; and I’d be saved. “Help… me!”, I croaked, as loudly as I could.

I felt a sharp pain in my side, as Thomas kicked me in the ribs. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”. He kneeled next to me, and hit me again. Blow after blow struck every inch of my body he could reach; as I tried in vain to cover myself. I knew this was it – I was going to get raped, and killed. I couldn’t move; the sobs escaping me were so weak, that I knew I couldn’t even speak, let alone scream. Thomas produced a small knife from his pocket, and began slicing at my meager clothing. As he went to cut up my sequined bra, he cut a gash into my breast, making me groan in pain. “This is all you’re good for, anyway. Lie back and take it. You’re mine…”. He began tugging at his belt, to open it, and forced his knee between my legs.

The was a sudden gush of wind, and Thomas flew across the alley; landing on the ground, out cold. Standing over me, was a young man, with intense and curious eyes. He was pale, and as his lips parted, I saw his fangs. “You…”, I rasped, still unable to speak properly. “He will not harm you anymore”, the man said. “But you are bleeding heavily, and the strikes he has dealt are severe”. “I… don’t want to die”, I whispered. He knelt next to me. “What is your name, woman?”. “Liv…”. A smile ghosted his face. “And so you shall… I can heal you, and make this man leave you alone”. He placed a hand on my cheek. “But I would like something in return”. “What?”, I asked. “I would like to taste your blood… Only a little. Just to remember different days”.

It was beginning to be difficult to breathe, and I knew the vampire – which I now understood he was – was right. “Who are you?”, I asked. “My name is Godric”, he replied. “But once this is over, you will forget it; and meeting me… None the less, I would like your consent”. I swallowed painfully, and tasted blood. “Alright”, I croaked. “Yes… Please just make this stop… make him go away”.

Godric nodded with a smile, and got back on his feet, walking over to where Thomas was laying. He was coming too, as Godric raised him by the neck. “Don’t… You have no idea who the fuck you’re messing with!”, Thomas croaked. “I think I have an idea… But it doesn’t matter”, Godric said, and stared deeply into Thomas’ eyes. “You will leave this woman be. You’ve never met her, and have no wish to go after her. You were never here. Walk away, and forget”. He let go of Thomas, who stumbled backwards – dazed. He turned around, and walked out of the alley.

Coming back to kneel by me, Godric gently put his arm around my back, to lift me into a seated position. The movement was painful beyond belief, and I almost passed out. Bracing myself for more pain, as Godric lowered his head to me, for what I thought was a bite; I was surprised, when he pressed his lips to my chest, sucking from the wound there. His skin was cold, and sent a shiver through my body. He made no sounds as he fed from me; his lips and hands didn’t travel anywhere. He simply drank. After a moment, he lifted his head, and I thought he was about cry, from his expression. “As it was…”, he breathed; before meeting my eyes. “Thank you”. He bit into his wrist, and put it to my lips. I felt the taste of my own blood mixed with something different – something cold and dark, but none the less lifegiving. I closed my eyes, and felt pain leave my body. After a final swallow of his blood, Godric moved his wrist away from my mouth; and I let out an exhausted breath. I could feel myself healing, and getting stronger by the second.

Opening my eyes again, they met Godrics. They were like deep voids into nothingness; and yet piercing at the same time. “You will go home and forget. Burn your clothes. This never happened”. I frowned. “I don’t understand…”. Godric looked confused for a second. “We have never met…”. “But you saved my life!”.

Godric let go of me, and got on his feet in a fluid movement. I got up myself, though with less elegance. “Forget me. Forget what happened!”, he hissed. I shook my head in confusion. Godric clenched his jaw, his expression a mix of fear and intrigue. “You are… It’s not possible!”. “What? What’s wrong?”, I asked. He stepped towards me again, and smiled in wonder. “I cannot glamour you”, he said. Someone laughed in the distance, and I saw that the backdoor to the club was slightly agape. Godric grabbed my arm, and looked intently at me. “Leave this place. Disappear. Do not ever tell anyone what happened here. Will you promise me?”. “Yes… of course”, I croaked. Another gust of wind, and Godric was gone.

Slipping back into the club, I grabbed my belongings; before leaving – never to return.

---

“Miss Sunday…? Liv!”. Erics voice pulled me out of my daze. His hand was on my shoulder, and he was hunched to meet my eyes. “I’m sorry, master”, I said. “You don’t remember, do you…?”. Both Eric and Isabel looked at me intently. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. “I…”, I croaked. My mind raced. “Eric, I think miss Sunday had one too many drinks back at the suite”, Pam said sharply. Eric gave her a hard look. “Maybe she’d like to get some fresh air…”. “Akta henne”, Eric muttered. He reluctantly let go of my shoulder; and Pam led me towards a large glass door, leading to a large terrasse. The area was empty of people.

“Thanks…”, I said. “Whatever”, Pam muttered. “You looked like you were about to be sick; and I didn’t want that shit near my new pumps”. I looked down at the shoes in question; and internally agreed with her, that that would indeed be a shame. I searched my purse for my cigarettes; thankfully finding both them and a lighter. Putting the cigarette to my lips, I drew in a lung of smoke, hoping it would calm me down. “I can’t tell them I don’t remember…”, I said; looking out over the lights of Dallas. “I can’t lie like that”. “Why not? You’ve been lying about being Erics for days. Lying seems to come naturally to you”. “That’s different”. “Why? Because it’s not a lie?”. She smirked amusedly at me. I took another draw from the smoke. “Because… If I don’t tell the truth, Godric might get executed. And that will hurt Eric”. “And you care about that?”, she asked. I cocked a brow at her. “Are we girlfriends now?”, I smiled challengingly. Pam simply rolled her eyes.

“It won’t matter what you say. Godric is guilty until proven innocent. And one human’s testimony won’t count as evidence enough”. She nabbed my cigarette, and took a draw from it – surprising me. “They’re just putting you on the stand as a matter of process”. “Why is it illegal to feed from a human in dry states? If the human is willing…”, I said. “It’s not illegal to feed, technically. It’s illegal to bite”. Pam handed me back the cigarette. “What?”, I frowned. She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s a good idea to read up on this shit, before you visit a somewhere new as a vampire… I have a bucket list for states I haven’t fed in yet. So far, I’m missing Illinois, North Dakota, Florida, Idaho and Alaska”. The thought of Pam roadtripping through the states to check of her list, made me quite uncomfortable. “So, you’re telling me that what Godric did wasn’t illegal?”, I asked. “He fed from you…”, Pam said. “But he didn’t bite me”, I retorted. Her eyes narrowed.

“And you remember that, how; exactly?”. Rose’s sudden appearance caught me off guard, and I coughed out a lungful of smoke. Rose nodded towards Pam. “Pamela…”. “Rose…”. Pam looked less than delighted to greet the other vampire. “You’re not fixing to throw our only witness off the roof, to help your grandsire; are you?”. Pam looked out the corner of her eye at me. “Can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind…”. Rose laughed heartily. “I’d have to kill you if you did”, she said, and looked at me. “No, we need this one. I for one, am going to make sure that she stays alive until the end of the trial”. “That makes me feel so much safer”, I grunted; and immediately regretted my words, from the look both vampires gave me.

Eric and Carl joined us on the terrasse; and though I hated his stupid vampire guts at the moment, I was happy to see the Viking. “Is there a problem here, ladies?”, Carl asked. Eric came to stand by me; taking a halfway protective stance in front of me. “Your human is mouthy…”, Rose said. “She forgets her place”. “Which is, of course, on her knees, baring her neck for you”, Carl said. “We know, Rose… Mainstreaming is wrong”. Rose smirked venomously at him. “Well, I see you’ve chosen a side”, she said. “Where is your beloved human, by the way…? Javier, isn’t it?”. Carl didn’t say anything, but I could tell Rose had struck a nerve.

Rose turned to Eric. “And you, Northman? We all know where you stand…”. “I stand on the side of Godric… that’s no secret”, Eric replied. “If you weren’t still attached to him, I dare say you’d be on our side; wouldn’t you…”. It was more a statement, than a question. “I don’t know…”, Eric smiled. “Mainstreaming has treated us well in Area 5”. Pam joined him in smiling. “So, you’re fine with your human being disrespectful to a fellow sheriff?”, Rose sneered.

Eric turned to face me. “Apologize to sheriff Pence”. His eyes were serious, warning me. “Of course, master”, I smiled. “My deepest apologies, sheriff. I’ll remember my place, from now on”. Rose didn’t seem convinced, but none the less nodded at me in response. “You seem different than the humans Northman usually brings to conventions”, she said. “They normally know how to behave, before they arrive”. “She’s new to our ways. Still learning”, Eric said. “I can tell”, Rose said. “Careful, human”. “Yes, sheriff Pence. My deepest regrets”, I smiled, finding it hard to let the gesture reach my eyes. “Leave the poor girl alone, Rose”, Carl said exasperatedly. Rose gave him a cold glare. “I have opening arguments to prepare”, Rose said, and left the terrasse. “Pence… any relation?”, I asked after they left. “Might be. He seems kind of anemic”, Pam smirked.

“Ow! Fuck…”. I shook my hand. The cigarette had burnt down to the butt; and scorched my fingertips in the process. Eric looked angrily at me. “I thought I told you how I feel about you smoking!”. Rage seeped through every pore of me. “I’m so very sorry, master. Please forgive me for my misdeeds!”, I mock-pleaded. Eric towered over me, staring me down. “This is another one of those situations I’m too uncomfortable with to watch”, Pam said. “I second that”, Carl muttered; and the two vampires left us to it.

Eric grabbed my arm. “What was that?”, he asked. “I’m not sure what you mean, master”, I replied quietly. “Why are you behaving like this?”. I looked down. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to offend you. Do you wish to feed? Unless my just smoking has tainted the taste of my blood, of course”. I tilted my neck, to invite him into biting me. “You’re not being yourself”, Eric said. “I am just trying to do the job you expect me to”, I said, an edge to my voice. “If you don’t want to feed from me, maybe you’d prefer to have sex? I’m sure we could find a corner somewhere before the trial…”.

Suddenly, my back was against the wall, and Eric was pinning my wrists down beside me, and pushing his knee in between my thighs. “If I wanted to, I’d have you screaming my name in pleasure within seconds”, he hissed. My breath caught in my throat. “Are you expecting me to go along with that, because you’re paying me?”, I challenged. From his expression, I’d caught him of guard, and he didn’t know how to reply. “Let me go, Sheriff Northman”, I said coldly. He immediately did as I asked, and stepped back.

Erics eyes hit the ground in front of me. “The magister is going to ask you, what happened between you and Godric”, he said. “He didn’t do anything illegal. He never bit me”, I said. “You can’t remember that”. “Yes, I can, goddammit!”, I cried out. “No, you can’t!”, he bellowed. “Godric glamoured you. You have no memory of that night”. I threw up my hands in frustration. “I can help!”. Eric simply shook his head. “Godric doesn’t want you too help. Neither do I”. He began walking towards the door. “That’s bullshit”, I croaked. “You love him… want to keep him alive. Did he command you to ask me to lie?”. Eric looked over his shoulder at me, but didn’t respond. “He did; didn’t he…? Why?”. “To keep you alive… he knows the hurt it would cause, if…”. He didn’t finish. “For whom?”, I croaked. “I don’t matter to anyone here, anyway…”.

I didn’t get a reply. Eric simply walked over to the door, and opened it; gesturing for me to follow him inside.

---

After being told to sit on a chair near the center of the room, I regretted having played dress up with Pam again. Every vampire present looked at me, as if I was a meal just waiting to be had. I was the only one in the room who was sitting, save for the magister; who’d taken his place on a throne-like chair, about ten feet away from me, facing in my direction. All other humans had been sent away, leaving me alone with the vampires. Eric and Pam stood as near to me, as they were able to, without crossing some invisible line, set up by some of the guards surrounding me. Rose had been right; they wanted me alive, at least for the duration of the trial.

Godric was led into the room, with silver chains around his wrists. His face didn’t give away any kind of pain or emotion; but it seemed Eric felt it all on his behalf from his pained expression. Pam gave him a short pat on the arm. When he caught my gaze, Godric smiled softly, and nodded. He was content to face whatever he had coming.

Eric had been truthful about the briefness of vampire trials. Opening arguments on both sides took very few minutes; as if everyone knew that the verdict had already been made. Isabel spoke as best she could about Godrics good deeds as sheriff, and how he had always followed the Authority’s laws, along with human ones, after the great reveal. Rose enthused about how Godric had broken these same laws, by biting a human in a dry state. She was a good politician, I had to admit; as she managed to speak about how important it was to uphold these same human laws, while still making her stance clear on how she felt vampire and human relations should be. I was almost dizzy at the end of both vampires speaking, and realized I hadn’t blinked in a long while; when a tear escaped my eye.

“Thank you, sheriff. Thank you, deputy”, the magister said unenthused. “Miss Sunday… are you feeling too emotional to testify?”. He’d turned his face to look at me, catching me off guard. “No, magister… I just forgot to blink”, I said. The magister laughed overbearingly. “Humans…”, he said, holding out a nonchalant hand. A murmur of laughter went through the room. Eric was tensing up, and once again, Pam put a hand on his arm; seemingly holding him back. “Are you ready to give testimony?”. I swallowed hard. “Can I ask a question first?”, I said. The magister narrowed his eyes at me. “You can try…”. I took a deep breath. “It doesn’t really matter what I say; you’ve already decided sheriff Godric is guilty”. “That’s not a question”, the magister said. “I guess not…”, I muttered. “What will happen, if you find Godric guilty?”.

The magister leaned back in his chair, and turned his cane in his hands. “Godric is old enough to know better. If we find that he’s broken the law, he’ll have to face the consequences”. “True death”, I said. “Yes”. The answer came promptly, and sent shivers down my spine – and not the good kind. I sat up straighter in my chair. “Now I’d like to get to your testimony… If that’s all right with you, of course”. It wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, I knew; so, I simply nodded.

“A year ago, you were a dancer, at a human nightclub; called Sugar and Spices – is that correct?”. “Sugar and Spice. Yes”, I said. A cold smile ghosted the magisters face. “And on your last evening of that job, you met sheriff Godric”. “I did, yes”. The answer to that question should be safe enough, I figured. “Now, on the picture shown last night – at the event you attended with sheriff Northman – Godric was shown feeding from you”. “Is that a question?”, I said. Eric frowned at me, and I sighed. “Yes… the picture shows, he fed from me”. “Do you remember the picture being taken?”. “No”. That was the truth. I hadn’t been aware.

Rose stepped forwards again. “Magister. Whether or not this human remembers being fed on, doesn’t matter. The picture is proof that it happened. And it happened in a dry state”. The magister nodded. “According to human law, biting is prohibited in California”, he said. “If this picture is indeed not fabricated, Godric put our community in danger, by disobeying that law”. “And where is the proof that it is not?”, Isabel chimed in. “Are you claiming a photo-shop defense, Isabel?”, Rose chuckled.

“Here’s your proof!”. Stan barged through the room, with Thomas in tow. I felt myself shrink in my seat; and looked towards Eric for some kind of support; though I knew he couldn’t give any at the moment. I wasn’t even sure he wanted to. “Who is this, Stan?”, the magister said. “This is Thomas Porter. The photographer who took the picture”, Stan said. “Stan, you can’t bring in another witness all of a sudden!”, Isabel growled. The magister lifted a hand to halt her. “I want to hear this!”.

Stan led Thomas forwards, leaving him to stand next to where I was seated. I felt cold all over. “I was at Sugar and Spice that night; taking pictures for my piece”, Thomas said. “I followed this woman outside, to take a photograph of her winding down after the show. I went a little way off to catch the angle I wanted, when I saw this vampire attack her”. He gestured towards Godric. “That’s bullshit!”, I roared; real tears escaping my eyes now. “You’re sick, you know that?”. Thomas sighed, and smiled softly at me. “I think you’re confused, miss…”. I was shaking in my seat, and looked up at the magister. “That’s not what happened… Thomas Porter attacked me! Godric saved me…”. Godric sighed; a strange gesture from the ancient vampire. “That’s ridiculous!”, Thomas guffawed. “I just took some pictures of you”.

“Order in the court!”, the magister said. “Miss Sunday, whether this man attacked you or not, is for your own human authorities to handle. I’m focused on sheriff Godric’s crimes… Now, Mr. Porter; did this vampire notice you taking his picture?”. “I don’t believe he did…”, Thomas said. “He doesn’t remember! Godric glamoured him”, I said. It was the only viable explanation for Thomas’ forgetting. These vampires didn’t care what he did to me, so he didn’t need to defend his own actions towards me to them. All he knew, was that he had taken photographs of me. That was what he had meant, when he said he hadn’t forgotten about me. “Well, at least he did one thing right; if what you say is in fact what happened”, the magister said. Rose shook her head frustratedly. “Magister, please!”, she said. “No matter what passed between these humans, fact still remains. Godric bit, and fed on this woman! He cannot be chosen for another term as sheriff; and more importantly, he must be punished!”. “Miss Sunday just told you…”, Isabel began. “Godric glamoured her, obviously”, Rose said. “Made her believe another human had attacked her, and not him”.

The magister looked towards Godric. “Is this true? Did you glamour this woman?”. Godric looked at me solemnly. “I used my glamour on her, yes…”, he said; not lying. He had tried. “See? He even admits it!”, Rose said gleefully. “He is guilty!”. The magister nodded. “It seems he is”. A murmur arose, as vampires on both sides either rejoiced over Godric’s presumed guilt, or wanted to find a different explanation.

Not one of the vampires in the room cared about what had happened to me that night. Even though I’d told them, what Thomas did to me, and that Godric had saved me, it wouldn’t make a difference to his sentence. But lying about remembering; standing by, as someone claimed that Godric had broken the law, which would get him executed – I couldn’t do that. Even if it was because he’d wanted my blood, he had saved me.

“Godric fed from me, from a wound on my chest. He didn’t bite me”, I said, breaking through the sounds of the muttering crowd. The room went silent again. I looked around the room; and saw that all eyes were on me. “He didn’t break the law…”. “He glamoured you to forget, my dear”, the magister said. “No… No, he didn’t…”, I said. Eric shook his head at me; willing me with his eyes not to go further. “How would you know?”. I took a deep breath, and braced myself. “I-i… can’t be glamoured”. The magisters eyes widened, and he got up to stand. “Sheriff Northman, is this true?”, he demanded. “Sheriff Northman didn’t know”, I said, lying through my teeth for the first time during my testimony. Eric parted his lips, and I saw his chest heave from a silent gasp.

The magister walked towards me slowly. “You have witnessed the entire sheriffs’ convention, including this trial; without anyone succeeding in glamouring you?”. “Yes”, I whispered. In the blink of an eye, the magister was stood in front of me, having raised me to my feet by my shoulders. He looked deeply into my eyes, showing me the void in them I’d seen in other vampires when they tried to glamour me. He willed me to listen, and obey. “Miss Sunday… Liv. Let me feed on you…”. “No…”, I said quietly. He frowned deeply. “You’re going to tilt your head now, and let me feed on you!”. My heart was racing, and I was sure – for the second time in my life – that I was about to die; but I couldn’t give in to fear. “I’m not doing that”.

The magister stared at me for a long moment, before stepping back from me. “It seems the most reliable witness to this supposed crime, is in fact this young woman. She cannot be glamoured, and doesn’t win anything from protecting sheriff Godric”. He went back to sit on his chair. I let out a sigh of relief; unsure what I relieved about, really. I’d reacted too soon. “This is bullshit! Can’t be glamoured? You can’t take her word for it…”, Stan roared. “I’m not taking her word for it. I just tried glamouring her myself”, the magister said calmly. Stan exposed his fangs. “Put those away, Stanley”. “Fuck that!”, the cowboy-vampire snarled.

In an instant, Stan was on me; having thrown me to the floor. I was too shocked to scream, and wouldn’t have been able to, even if I wasn’t; because Stan was squeezing my throat with his large hand. Eric pounced at Stan, and struck him hard in the head. Stan let go of me, and the two of them got in to a full-blown fight. I was shaking, and tried to pull myself away from the tussling vampires. The SWAT-vampires pulled the two of them apart.

“Sheriff Northman, remove this human from the room”, the magister yelled. “Do not let her out of your sight until you are told otherwise”. Eric was next to me within an instant; and more or less carried me out of the room, tucked into his side. Pam gave all the surrounding vampires a wary look, as she walked next to us; ready for a fight. One of the bystanders took a step forward, and Eric bared his fangs at him.

Once we were in the elevator, my knees gave in; and I blacked out.

---

My eyes flickered open, and I found myself in my bed in the suite. Eric was seated at the foot of the bed, with his back to me. “What happened?”, I asked. “You passed out in my arms”, he said, not turning around. “How long was I out?”. “A few hours”, he replied. “Javier has been watching you, while Pam and I attended the sentencing”. “Godric?”, I breathed. “They’re letting him go, on the condition that he doesn’t run for another term”. He got on his feet, while I sat up; and went to sit next to me. “I want to thank you, for what you did… Even if I did ask you to stay out of it”, he said. “You saved Godric’s life. It means more to me, than you can imagine”. I didn’t know how to reply. Saying you’re welcome didn’t really cover what I was feeling about the situation. “Stan?”, I asked quietly. “He’s been sent away, after the scene he made at the trial. He took the human, Thomas, with him”. He snarled the name. “It seems he was using him to take down Godric”.

Eric took my hand, and met my eyes warily. “Why did you tell the magister that I didn’t know?”, he asked. “What good would that have done? They’d have just punished you; and it wasn’t a fact that made any difference to Godric’s situation… or mine, for that matter”. I sighed heavily. “So, what happens now? Am I gonna be the magisters midnight snack?”, I asked. “No… You’ll be watched, to make sure you don’t speak of what you’ve heard or seen these last few nights…”. “But I wouldn’t do that”, I exclaimed. “I’m not suicidal!”. A smile ghosted Erics otherwise serious face. “You could have fooled me, sunshine”, he said. “One thing came from you lying about me knowing… They are punishing me… for being stupid enough to bring someone like you to the conference”. I felt my heart drop. “I’m so sorry, Eric…”, I sighed. He shook his head in response, and intertwined his fingers with mine. “My punishment is that I’m to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t talk”. There was a warmth to his gaze, suddenly. “They’ll want monthly reports on your… situation”. “So, I’m a situation, now…”, I muttered.

I crawled of the bed, and got on my feet; but my knees gave, and Eric caught me against his chest. I was finding it hard not to savor being in his arms again. After a moment of us just standing there, he finally spoke. “What I said… it hurt you. And I'm sorry”, he said. They were strange words coming from his mouth, and I tried not to let them get to me; unsure if I could trust what I was hearing. “You were right… I knew what I was getting myself in to, taking this job… Hadn’t planned on the sex and blood-drinking part; but I should have known…”. Eric stroked my temple with his thumb. “Is that all it was? A job?”. I pulled away from him, and began walking towards the door; my legs not failing me this time. “I thought it wasn’t… But that’s what you said yourself.”, I muttered.

“I was jealous”. I spun around, my jaw dropping. Eric’s expression was earnest, and his arms hung by his side, making him look almost vulnerable. “Excuse me?”, I said. “You don’t get jealous about humans, remember?”. “I do about you". He hunched over a bit, looking at me intently. “You have men and vampires alike wanting you. And even though you’re not mine… or maybe because of that… let’s just say it rubs me the wrong way”. “Bill and Sam are my friends; my good friends… You can’t be jealous of every man that comes within 10 feet of me”, I said. “I’m jealous of the women, too”, he said with a slight smile; taking a few slow but confident steps towards me. “I still want you to be mine”. “Eric…”. I shook my head defeatedly. “You’re right. What you said hurt me. You hurt me… You can’t just feed me your blood to take that pain away”.

His face dropped from mischievous to somber, and he stopped in his tracks; stepping back to give me space. “I understand… I’ll let you rest, before the flight home”. There was clear pain in his voice. “What about your meeting with the Authority, before the sheriffs’ announcements?”, I asked. “Humans don’t take part in that”, he replied. “Your job at this conference is mostly over. I’ll see you home safe; and then you won’t have to see me again”. It was agony to hear him say that. “But… you’ll be watching”, I said. “You don’t want me there… and I trust you to keep quiet. I’ll make the reports without bothering you anymore”.

He walked towards the door out to the hallway. “Eric…?”, I said. He stopped in his tracks, and spun around to look at me. There was something hopeful in his eyes, and I almost felt guilty for continuing down a different path of conversation, than he seemed to have wanted. “What about Thomas? Will he…?”. “I’ll handle him. Make sure he doesn’t bother you again”, Eric said. “Godric commanded me to not kill him, but there are other ways. I’ll make sure you’re safe”. I looked down at the floor and nodded. “Thank you”. He nodded, and left the room.

I got out of the uncomfortable clothes Pam had Gingered me up in, and packed my suitcase; so that I’d be ready for when the limo would take us back to the airport. Feeling strangely jetlagged from having been on vampire-time the last few days, I couldn’t sleep; and decided to take a long, hot shower to calm myself down. Once I was once again dressed – in jeans and a tank top, not feeling comfortable using the clothes I’d bought with Erics card anymore – I grabbed a sandwich from the mini-fridge, and ate it whole; while curled up on one of the couches.

There was a knock on the door, and I looked out the peep-hole; surprised to see Godric standing there, alone. I opened the door, and stepped aside. “Eric isn’t here, but you’re welcome to come in and wait”, I said. “Would you like some TruBlood?”. The vampire smiled almost wonderingly at me. “No. Thank you. I came to see you; before you leave”.

Gesturing for him to sit on one couch, I went to sit on the other. “You risked your life for me. Thank you; but it was unwise of you”. “Lack of self-preservation on both our parts, I suppose”, I said. “They would have executed you”. “I was ready to face my end… It was an honorable cause, to keep you alive”. It was like a bucket of cold water in my face. “Don’t…”, I croaked. “I don’t want that burden on me. Why is my life more valuable than yours?”. “I’m not alive”, Godric smiled. I didn’t have a response to that.

We sat for a moment in silence. “I’m sorry you can’t be sheriff anymore…”, I said. “I’m not”, he said. “70 years is more than enough time on the sheriff’s post. I know very few with the stamina to hold the title for that long”. “It’s a powerful position”, I shrugged. “Power corrupts…”. Godric looked saddened all of a sudden. “You think Eric…”, I began. “Eric was born to power. He was the son of a king, before I took his human life. Power corrupted him in the womb”. My jaw dropped. “Oh… I didn’t know”. Godric must have been worried I’d think ill of him, because suddenly, he felt a desire to explain himself. “He was half-way dead, when we met. Had I not turned him; he would have died in agony”. “No, I meant, I didn’t know he was the son of a king”, I smiled. “I know you wouldn’t have killed him, just to turn him”. Godric tilted his head, and smiled. “How do you know that?”, he asked. “You just don’t seem like that kind of man… vampire”, I said. “And, you saved me… Even if you did only do it to taste my blood; you could have taken it against my will. But you didn’t want to”. He smiled, and shook his head in agreement.

I thought for a moment, on how to phrase my next question. “If you think Eric was corrupted from the beginning, why did you make him?”. Godric smiled softly, and seemed to slip back in a far away memory. “When I met him, I was lonely; closer to dead than alive in my heart. Eric had such fire in him, and reminded me that there was more to my existing than survival. There was companionship, joy… love for another being – in our case the love of family. Father, brother, son…”. “And the corruption?”. I was about to repeat the question, worried Godric hadn’t heard me due to his long pause; when he locked eyes with me again. “I know my child better than anyone, but one thing that will always amaze me, is how he manages to love with all his heart, as if it is not cold and hard as stone”.

I played with the tassel at the corner of one of the throw pillows. “You are… fidgeting”, Godric said. I stifled a smile. “Yeah, sorry… I know how your family hates that”. The vampire grinned. “No… It’s very human of you. That constant need for movement”. “Eric says it’s irritating”, I shrugged. “Eric is emotionally immature”, Godric retorted, raising a brow at me. “He doesn’t necessarily know the difference between irritation and infatuation”. I shook my head with a smile. “I don’t think you’ve read him correctly… I’m just a human”, I said. “Yes. Just a human”, Godric nodded. “To Eric, your humanity represents life itself; and the one thing he loves more than anything, is life”. I felt myself flush red.

The door to the hallway opened, and Eric stepped inside. I got up to stand by the window; almost as a reflex. Eric avoided my eyes, as much as I avoided his; whereas Godric seemed amused to be looking between the two of us. My soon-to-be ex-boss sat down in the spot I’d formerly occupied. “Isabel was made sheriff of Area 9”, he said. “The authority made a good choice. She will handle the position well”, Godric said contently. “What will you do now?”, Eric asked warily. “I haven’t decided…”, Godric replied.

Eric leaned forwards enthusiastically. “Come with us to Shreveport! There is a home for you with me”. “I think it’s best if I leave America for a while…”. The tall Viking suddenly looked like a small child, and I had to will myself to stay where I was; in stead of running over to embrace him comfortingly. “When will I see you again?”, he asked quietly. Godric smiled lovingly at his child. “I will come see you before I leave… both of you”. “Pam will be glad for the opportunity to say goodbye”, Eric muttered; making Godric laugh heartily. “Pamela only cares about me, because she cares about you…”, he said. “She wasn’t who I was speaking of”. His eyes travelled towards me; and I wanted to go hide under a rock. “Liv is going back to Bon Temps. I’ll be making monthly reports on her cooperation to the Authority; but we won’t be working together again”. Eric was very matter-of-factly in his tone. “Is that so?”, Godric said.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “We have a flight in about 5 hours. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to try to get some sleep”. Eric tentatively met my eyes, and nodded. “Of course. Pam and I will be at rest before you wake. Please make sure they load the right coffins into the car. Others will be leaving at the same time”. “I got it”. I looked towards Godric. “I’m glad that we met again, in spite of everything”. “As am I”, he said. “Take care of yourself, Godric”, I smiled, receiving a warm wondering smile in return.

Eric got up, and followed me over to the door of my room. “I said I’d remove those”, he said, and looked down at my neck. “Right…”, I said; and looked on, as he extracted his fangs, and pricked a hole in his finger. I met Erics eyes again, letting myself disappear into the vast blueness of them, as he gently stroked his fingertip over the fang-marks on my neck; and let his thumb brush against my jaw. “Sleep tight, sunshine”, he whispered.

I went into my room, and looked at Eric one last time; a pang of heartache streaming through me, as our eyes locked, before I closed the door.

---

I slept during the whole flight back to Louisiana. The sun was still up when we landed in Shreveport; so, I got in my old beat-up car – which was still parked by the airport – and followed the sedan taking the travel coffins to Fangtasia; where Ginger let me and the driver in to the bar. He and the carrier left the coffins in the back office; and after Ginger had finished flirting with them, they left.

“I can take it from here, sweetie”, Ginger said; startling me, as I stood in my own thoughts, looking at Erics coffin. “Great… that’s great”, I said. I lingered for a moment, letting my fingertips trace the smooth surface of the coffin-lid. “Are you alright?”, Ginger asked. “Yeah, just a bit jet-lagged, I guess”. “I know the feeling. I hardly ever see the sun these days. Makes it easier to work here, you know? Keep up with vamp-time”. I nodded with a slight smile. “I’m gonna take off”. “Do you need me to tell them anything?”, she said. “No… Just tell Pam that her Louboutins are in the small suitcase”, I sighed.

I left the office and made my way through the empty bar towards the exit. “And Eric?”. Ginger had followed me out. I thought for a moment. Thank you for the mind-blowing sex. Thank you for trying to protect me against a man that hurt me. Thank you for making me feel beautiful and special. Thank you for wanting me – I want you too, more than I can say. “Tell him… thanks for the opportunity”, I said, and hurried out of the door.

When I woke the next morning, I had received an envelope in my mailbox; without stamp or address. Inside was a check for 10.000 dollars, and a note. - Didn’t want to insult you by leaving a tip. You’re welcome for the opportunity. Thank you for your services – E I sat for a long while, just staring at the two pieces of paper. This is what my experience had boiled down to; as it should. Payment and a civil communication of gratitude. I should have been happy, and content to move on; but inside, I was screaming with frustration over how we had ended things. Everything seemed unfinished.

#eric northman #eric northman fic #eric northman x oc #eric northman smut #true blood

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 4 years

Note

May I request the MC reaction to Juliette going into labor and how she helps her through the pregnancy?

written by @valkriewonder

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It all began with a visit to MCs parents, something the couple did every other week since MC and Juliette had married the year before, the off week being spent with the Optimas. Optimus had grown under their leadership and old employees had learned about the company’s previous dark dealings, and new employees learned this after they settled into their jobs. After being married for a year the couple had decided it was time to start a family of their own. Juliette had wanted to carry their first child, MC would carry the next one. After undergoing the proper procedures they were waiting to see if it had worked. Dinner was progressing well when Juliette felt a wave of nausea over take her. She quickly bolted to the bathroom and managed to make it in time. Once she felt better she felt a familiar hand on her back. Giving MC a grateful smile, Juliette washed her hands before the couple returned to the table. After returning to their seat, Tina, MC’s mother spoke, “Are you all right dear?” “I’m fine, although I’m not sure what is going on, it’s been happening for the past couple of days.” “I’m sorry for asking, but you had the implantation procedure recently right?” MC nodded, “Yeah, we did, a couple weeks ago.” MC thought for a minute, before her eyes widened, “Wait you don’t think?” Tina nodded, “I do, the same thing happened to me.” Juliette looked at MC, “What are you two talking about, love?” “Mom thinks you might be pregnant.” “Despite it’s misleading name, morning sickness can actually happen at any time.” MC’s Dad, Carl nodded, “Just like how your mother was when she was pregnant with you, up at all hours.” “Juliette looked thoughtful, “Is there anything I can do?” Tina nodded, “Well you can try eating smaller meals spaced throughout the day, and if something in particular seems to set it off, avoid it.” The couple nodded. The rest of the night went smoothly and the couple bought a pregnancy test on the way home. After arriving home the two snuggled together before going to sleep. Early the next morning Juliette was first of the couple to wake up. Taking the test out of it’s package, Juliette read the instructions before taking it. She had just finished washing her hands when MC walked in, “Oh, sorry, hon, I didn’t realize you were in here. Did you take the test?” “Yeah, just finished, just need to wait.” After waiting, Juliette took a deep breath, before looking at the test. The word pregnant staring right back at them. The two stared at it for a second, before it hit them what it said. MC swept Juliette into her arms and kissed her. Both sets of parents and The Syndicate were soon told the news and all were thrilled with the announcement. As the weeks passed MC supported her wife however she could. Rubbing her back whenever Juliette had morning sickness, cooking meals and taking care of her wife. As the weeks passed the morning sickness eased before disappearing completely. As she progressed Juliette soon found that she was horny more often than usual. And so it was during a routine examination that she asked her doctor about this, albeit, very red. The doctor giggled, “Don’t be embarrassed, I have heard it all. And no this isn’t uncommon, hormones fluctuate during pregnancy, and increased arousal is very common. As everything is normal, I see absolutely no reason why you should resume such activities.” After returning home they did just that. Juliette’s belly grew to accommodate the developing life within her as she progressed through the second trimester, MC loved to gently rub her wife’s belly, much to Juliette’s delight. MC also loved to help Juliette shower, washing her wife from top to bottom. The couple also maintained their active sex life, experimenting with positions as Juliette’s belly grew bigger and bigger. Once they could they decided to ask the doctor to tell them the gender and learned that they were having a girl. After talking it over they decided to name her Anabel Lily Optima. It wasn’t all good things however, Juliette soon started having weird cravings, everything from ice cream with pickles to chips with chocolate sauce. Tina assured her daughter, when MC asked her about it, that this was also common and it wasn’t anything to be concerned with. The hormones running through Juliette’s body also caused to mood to swing unexpectedly, the doctor assured the couple that this was also normal and was to be expected. Eventually Juliette entered her third trimester, and the couple began to prepare their apartment for their child, with everything from cabinet locks to outlet covers. The room next to their bedroom was soon painted pink and was outfitted with the furniture needed. While Juliette’s libido had waned somewhat, MC made sure her wife knew how much she loved her, MC gave her wife lots of foot, back, and belly rubs, much to her wife’s gratitude. That wasn’t to say they hadn’t completely stopped making love to each other, but as Juliette neared the end of her pregnancy she just didn’t feel like making love as much as before. This didn’t bother MC, she loved Juliette no matter what. Of course the aches and pains only intensified as her pregnancy progressed. After a baby shower, where the couple had been given everything they needed thanks to both parents and the Syndicate, the two settled down to wait for Juliette to go into labor. On December 23rd, Juliette woke up first to wake up, and after making a stop in the bathroom, waddled to the kitchen. She was soon joined by MC, and the two began to make breakfast. After finishing MC gathered the dishes while Juliette headed to the couch, but just as she got there, she felt a cramp in her lower body. It passed quickly and Juliette shrugged it off. As the day progressed the cramps soon began to become stronger and more frequent. It wasn’t long before MC realized what was going on, “I think you’re in labor, love.” As the day progressed Juliette’s contractions gradually became stronger and closer together. MC supported her wife, making sure Juliette was well hydrated and rubbed her back, helping Juliette breath through her contractions. Once the contractions reached 10minutes apart and 2 minutes in duration, MC called the midwife, who told them to head to the birth center, she would gather her things and meet them there. MC quickly called her parents then Andi, all three promised to spread the word and met them at the center Once they arrived MC quickly parked and walked with Juliette inside. They were soon settled into a good size private room with 2 beds, a bathroom with a large tub that could fit the both of them comfortably, and several chairs. Once she was settled, the midwife checked her and found she was four centimeters dilated. “Alright, you’re progressing, but you’re not going very quickly, Let’s see what rest and time do before we talk about other options, try and get some rest, I’ll check you again later.” After the midwife left Juliette dozed off, MC simply rubbed her arm and back, letting her wife rest and gather her strength for what lay ahead. Hearing someone at the door, MC looked up, to see her parents standing there. She waved them in and her mother gave her a hug, “How’s she been doing?” “She’s been progressing slowly, but she’s progressing. I’m letting her get some rest.” “Good idea, she’ll need all the energy she can get later.” After talking a few more minutes MC’s parents left some food behind and headed back to the lobby. Not too long after, Eleanor and Jack entered, they didn’t stay long either, but offered words of encouragement to MC. Not long after, Juliette woke up, “Hey.” “Hey love, you feeling ok?” “Better now that I’ve rested, but do you have anything to eat?” MC nodded, “Mom brought some sandwiches.” Just as Juliette finished eating, a strong contraction gripped her body, causing the blonde to let out a scream of pain. MC just grasped her wife’s hand, letting her squeeze it as hard as she needed to, if this was a fraction of the pain she was in, MC wouldn’t complain. Once the contraction passed the midwife entered, “Hi you two, I’d like to see how much you have dilated, if I could, Juliette.” After she finished the midwife straightened up, “Seven centimeters, just three more to go. I’ll be back in a bit. Feel free to walk around, you can also get into the tub if you want to try that; I’ll keep a birth stool or ball ready if you want them.” Juliette opted to try the water, and soon she was in the tub wearing only her bra, with MC behind her, the water easing her aching back. MC gently rubbed her wife’s belly, hoping to comfort her wife as she labored. Neither woman were sure how much time passed, but eventually Juliette felt the urge to push, MC kept rubbing her wife’s belly and encouraged her to not push yet, she didn’t want Juliette to hurt herself or the baby. Soon the midwife returned and checked Juliette again, “Nine centimeters, almost there, shouldn’t be too long now. But you can’t push quite yet.” MC kept her focus on Juliette, encouraging her and telling her how much she loved her and that she was proud of her. Finally the midwife returned and check Juliette, “Ok, Juliette, your fully dilated, go ahead and push when you’re ready.” Juliette was soon pushing, grunting with the effort as she worked with her body to deliver their child. MC kept encouraging her wife, telling her that she was doing well and that the end was in sight. And although Juliette had expected the pain to level off, it kept getting worse. “It burns! Eventually her lower lips parted in a tear drop shape the the baby’s head descended lower and lower, the tear drop shape soon became a circle as the head started crowning, “OK, you’re crowning, almost there.” Juliette let out a scream a with the next contraction, “It burns! Make it stop!” Juliette howled in pain. Tearing at MC’s heart. “It means the baby’s head is stretching to fit, easy now, too fast and you’ll tear.” After the next contraction, the midwife spoke, “Oh boy, OK Juliette your baby is in what we call occiput posterior position, that means she’s head down, but with the face facing towards your belly rather than your bottom like usual.” “What does that mean?” MC asked. “It means that Juliette is going to have to work harder than normal, and it hurts worse. I wish it was different, but…” “What can I do?” “Just what you are, MC. Keep encouraging her and keep her spirits up.” A couple of contractions later and Juliette was running out of energy, “I can’t do this anymore.” “Yes you can love, I know you’re tired but it’s almost over you have to keep pushing.” Finally with the next push, the head began emerging. “There you go Juliette the head is coming out.” Finally the head was completely out. “Alright the head is out, one more contraction should do the trick.” Sure enough, the baby shoulders slid free with the next contraction and her body slid out easily afterwards. The midwife quickly put Anabel into Juliette’s arms as she took her first breath and started to cry. Juliette ran one of her nipples along Anabel’s mouth and the baby quickly latched on and began to nurse .It was then that the midwife told the couple that the time was 2:47 in the morning, on December 25th, Christmas Day. Juliette had been in labor for over 37 hours. Soon after the cord was tied and cut. Once the families and their friends were allowed in, they all took turns holding Anabel and congratulating the couple. Eventually everyone headed home and MC snuggled against her wife, and drifted off to sleep.

#Anonymous #answered #Juliette x MC #juliette optima #vn Juliette #villainous nights #lovestruck vn #lovestruck villainous nights #lovestruck

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader

Chapter 10- The End of Something Part 1

Summary: After the painful battle to get Vanya back, you then watched as Diego attempted to save the president. Failing in the process. Now here you are, facing the forces of evil, just trying to find a way home.

Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch

You sit on the bottom steps inside of Elliot’s place, listening to the tv reporter drawl on and on about the dealings and names of you and the other Hargreeves. Raising your eyebrows when he called you, a former bartender who had a reputation for purposefully injuring customers. Yeah, when they were harassing random people who just wanted to have a good time in peace, you think angrily to yourself.

You sit back, listening in amusement to the six of them bicker about letting Kennedy die, being wanted criminals, and where all of you should go. Klaus adding input about some weird place with friendly but strange people. And Five promptly turning it down, explaining how the Commission will never stop hunting all of you down, no matter where we all go. Diego cutting in with his own understanding of how they will, in fact do just that. Five giving him a confused face, “I’m sorry, since when are you an expert on the Commission?” Questions Five, intently staring at Diego.

“Since I got back from there.” He answers turning to look at Five’s even more bewildered face, giving Diego a short, “What?”

“Yeah, they headhunted me and Y/N, she wasn’t there for the briefing, but they offered us a job. Full time with benefits, which I had to turn down.” He explains casually to Five.

Five’s eyebrows raise in suspicion, “They headhunted you, the village idiot.” Five quips, chuckling in puzzled amusement.

Diego looks at him, offended by his smaller brothers disbelief in him achieving something for once, “What, am I not allowed to be headhunted? Only the almighty Five needs to be in demand?” Diego growls at him, annoyed that Five seriously can’t fathom him in charge of anything.

Five shakes his head, “Diego, you’re not Commission material, all right? Got an obstinate nature to ya.” He says matter-of-factly, earning an offended look from Diego.

Five then points out, turning to you, “Now, Y/N on the other hand. I can see why they would recruit her. She’s got a strong will in the face of danger, and never compromises a well thought out plan. Also she can’t die, so that’s a loaded benefit.” He adds, nodding to you, then looking up smartly at Diego. You turn to Diego, giving him a wink with a delighted smirk. He rolls his eyes, presumably at the both of you.

“Who do you think it was that figured out Vanya was the one that causes doomsday and stopped it? Me. That’s who.” Diego snaps.

“Hey!” Klaus says in defense of Vanya, a hand sassily on his slender hip.

“I figured it all out on the Infinite Switchboard.” He says while smiling and leaning in closer to a confused Five. “You were on the Infine Switchboard?” Five questions.

“Hell yeah. I made that machine my bitch.” He says smiling excitedly while looking at you first and then the others. “Y’all need to recognize I got shit going on y’all don’t even know about.” He snaps back, starting to sound like he’s spent too much time in Texas.

Allison’s head snaps up from her own seated position higher up on the staircase, “Oh, sorry. You’ve got things going on?” She asks him, wide eyed.

“This isn’t helpful.” Mutters Luther while looking at the ground, tired of everyone’s nonsense.

Vanya silently turns to walk up the stairs, passing by a laughing Klaus, amused by Five and Diego’s heated squabbling about the Commission.

You get up off the bottom steps, stepping between Diego and Five, walking yourself over to where Luther is standing. As Diego continues to sass Five, “Look, I met the Résistence in their secret lair. All right? I went through orientation and I passed and stopped doomsday.” Huh, did he now? If you weren’t to busy blacking out from getting electrocuted then maybe you could have joined him. Oh, well.

——

You and the others start bickering back and forth about where to go or what to do next. Calling each other out for stupid shit and just genuinely being disagreeable. You hear the sound of keys jingle and the familiar pattern of Vanya’s footsteps, as she runs down the stairs opposite of the rest of you. All standing in your various spots around the middle of the room, you look up at her. She makes eye contact with you for a split second, a worried expression clear on her bright features. “I’m leaving.” She says quickly, looking to each of you expectantly.

“What? To go where?” Announces Allison loudly, confused as to why her sister suddenly wants to leave their temporarily only safe place.

“Sissy’s farm. Something’s wrong with Harlan, and I need to help him.” She replies, anxiously.

Luther speaks up, stepping in closer to your tiny group of 5, all staring at Vanya wondering why of all times would she need to visit someone right now, “Vanya, we need to stick together, okay? Now more then ever.” He assures her. You can’t disagree there.

She steps up closer to the rest of you a pleading look in her eyes, “That’s why I’m telling you this. Whatever’s going on with Harlan, I think I might have caused it” she tells you all, jeesh no wonder she looks so worried.

You shake your head, furrowing your brows, “How’s that even possible?” You ask her.

Sighing she continues her explanation, “He drowned, and, uh, somehow I was able to bring him back to life. And now it’s like we’re connected.” Her face a greater mix of fear and uncertainty.

“Wh... What does that even mean?” Wonders Luther, equally as perplexed as the rest of you.

“I don’t know. I can’t explain, but... I know that he needs my help.” She pauses for a moment before sighing softly, “I need your help, too. I’m scared. And for the first time in my life, I don’t wanna do it alone. I want my family by my side.” She ends with, looking pleadingly at the rest of you, hoping that she won’t get turned down again.

Diego walks up to Vanya, “Look, I’m sorry. We have other priorities right now.” He tells her softly, not trying to be unkind about her request.

“Diego’s right. For once.” Five adds, looking sadly at Vanya. “We need to make our stand here and now.” He whispers.

She looks to each of you dismally for a brief second, as she mutters a small, “Okay. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” Turning to walk out the door, without another word. The rest of you stand in somber silence. You suddenly look up at Klaus, making eye contact. He nods at you with a small smile, before turning and walking out the door after Vanya.

You quickly walk over to the door about to follow after Klaus when you turn to face the rest of the Hargreeves, “Well come on, we’re Team Zero. Remember?” Smiling at them, giving Diego a quick wink. You then swiftly walk out the door, heading straight for Vanya’s car.

Opening up the side door and shuffling your way to the middle seat, as Diego trails in after you, Allison opening up the left door and jumping in next to you as well. “Got room for three more?” Allison asks her, a big grin on her face.

Vanya looks at the three of you in confusion, “What about the Commission?”

“Well, might as well do some good before we die horribly.” Says Diego as you lightly punch his shoulder, Klaus giving a small “Whoo-hoo.” from the front seat. Five randomly appears next to Klaus, opening his door and briefly scaring him in the process. “Five, you... you don’t have to..” Vanya starts, incredibly surprised that everyone suddenly decided they wanted to join her. “I know. You owe me one, sis.” He smiles at her, suddenly turning to face Klaus, “Children ride in the back.” In his I’m-not-gonna-ask-again voice. “Okay.” Klaus answers by turning around and walking over the seat. Shoving his way, in between you and Allison.

“Move over fatass.” You jokingly growl at Diego, who does his best to scoot as close to the door as he can. Giving you almost no room, that now your right arm and shoulder are pressed tightly against Diego’s chest. You look up at him, trying to hold in a smile, he breaks by giving you a toothy grin in return. “Come here often?” He asks you, smirking. “Hilarious.” You deadpan.

“Guys, I don’t know what to say.” Vanya says astonished, while looking back at her packed car. The back hatch is suddenly pulled open, as Luther begrudgingly does his best to fit into the tiny cargo area. “If anyone makes a fat joke, I’m outta here.” He pauses for a second as all of you smile at him. “Y/N, don’t even look in my direction.” He sarcastically warns you, knowing too well how you’re not one to hold back on anything you find funny. Diego wraps his arm around you, trying to get more comfortable for the 15 minute ride to Sissy’s farm.

——

You look up out the window, noticing how the sky seems to be turning grey. Snow falls gently down into the grass as Vanya pulls into the driveway, “What the hell.” You mutter.

All of you hastily get out of the car Diego being the first to question the huge anomaly, “You think whatever’s going on inside is causing the cold front?” Wonders Diego, to no one in particular.

“Well, the correlation is high.” Answers Five, shutting the door behind him and looking up at the cyclone of energy coming out of the barn roof.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here, and say it is.” You add, getting an amused glance from Diego.

Abruptly a blonde woman holding up a gun and looking very terrified runs out of the barn and straight to the seven of you. Vanya reacts quickly, seeming to know what to do. As she runs to the woman raising her arms up, “Sissy! Sissy!” She calls to her. Trying to divert, Sissy, from shooting anyone.

“Get back! All of you, just get the hell back!” She screams, holding up her shotgun higher.

“Sissy! Hey! Hey! What’s wrong?” Vanya asks her calmly.

Sissy glances at the rest of you for a quick second before she speaks to Vanya, “Carl.”

“What did he do to you?” Vanya rasps out, terrified as to what she might say next.

Sissy shakes her head, breathing shakily, “He’s... He’s dead. Harlan tossed him aside like a rag doll, same way you sent those policemen flyin’. What did you do to him?” She demands.

“No..” Vanya tries to explain, Sissy cutting her off sharply, “What the hell you do to my son?”

Diego begins to step forward, you’re right next to him so you place yourself between him and Sissy before he can say anything else, just incase she decided to use that gun, “We don’t have time for this.” You tell her honestly.

She whips her shotgun in both you and Diego’s direction, barrel aimed right for your head. “Where you think you two’re goin?” She hisses, ready to strike at a moments notice.

Diego puts his hand on your left forearm, stopping you from snatching the gun out of her trembling hands, “To help your son.” He tells her.

“Look, Sissy, I found my family. These are my brothers, my sister, and Y/N, who I’ve know since I was a child.” She rapidly clarifies to Sissy, who doesn’t really know who any of you are.

A snap of crackling energy is heard through the cold air, she turns to the rest of you with furrowed brows. Luther gives her a tight lipped smile, awkwardly waving at her in a friendly manner, “Ma’am.”

She looks back to Vanya, “Where you lyin’ to me the whole time?” She says hurt. “Of course not. Look I didn’t know who I was. But I do now.” She pauses for a moment to glance at the rest of you, “And we are not the monsters that they say we are. We did not kill the president. We are not terrorists. We’re not here to hurt anyone.” Vanya reasons with her, trying to help her understand a little bit better. “Then....who are you?” Sissy doubts, a baffled expression clear on her face. “The only one who can help Harlan.” Vanya tells her confidently.

——

All of you follow behind Sissy and Vanya, as they lead you into the incredibly loud and windy barn. Vanya screams for Harlan to focus on her and calm down. You watch as this Harlan kid is suspended in the air, arching is back in an odd convulsion. You smirk as an annoyingly humorous intrusive thought pops into your head, “This is more like Harlan and the no good, terrible, very bad, day.” You shut your eyes and shake your head coming back to your senses, now is not the time for this, Y/N, you internally yell at yourself.

Your ears unexpectedly pick up the familiar whooshing sound of someone teleporting. Five’s right here, so who was that? You follow the sound, walking towards the other barn door that leads to the back field. Klaus noticing this, he follows your lead curiously. Your eagle eye vision spots two people, one you’d rather not ever see again. “Uh, Y/N?” Wonders Klaus, you ignore him, staring daggers at Lila and an eccentrically dressed silver haired woman. “Okay, um guys!” Shouts Klaus, catching the attention of Diego, Allison, Five, and Luther.

“Ah, shit.” Diego says walking up next to you, having also caught site of Lila.

“Who are they?” Marvels Klaus, is face scrunched up in confusion at the random people who just bleeped into the field.

Five answers that question without hesitation, “One’s the Handler, and the other’s Y/N and Diego’s friend.” Giving a sour face, not pleased with the surprise visit by either of them.

“Lila. That fucking bitch.” You growl, Klaus looking back at you in awe, astonished that the both of you managed to make a friend. Only for them to turn out to be working for the Commission.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. They both look angry.” Luther adds bluntly.

“Yeah.” Adds Klaus.

“Y/N has that effect on people.” Allison says quickly, not in a joking way either. You turn to her in mock offense, “Okay. I can’t really argue with that.”

“I’m gonna find out what they want. You guys stay with Vanya and the kid.” Five tells the five of you rushed.

“I’m coming with you.” Diego replies, you cutting in after him, “Me too, I got beef with Kill Bill over there.” You look at Five nodding in Lila and the Handler’s direction. He gives you the flash of a smile in acknowledgment. Both you and Diego turn to follow Five out the door.

——

“I love the smell of that fresh country air, don’t you darling.” States the Handler at Lila, looking at you up and down in curiosity.

“Makes me want to vomit.” Lila replies bluntly, standing as still as a statue while avoiding your gaze.

“What do you want.” Snaps Five, studying the Handler for any suspicious movement.

“What about me?” Diego asks Lila, dreading the possible consequences for fleeing the Commission without her knowledge.

“You’re not even worth my wrath.” She retorts sharply back at him.

You tilt your head in an annoyed manner whilst clenching your fists, “Unfortunately you’re worth mine.” You hiss angrily before continuing, “You electrocute me to death and then take Diego with you, without another real explanation? If we weren’t here to make negotiations I’d gut you before you’d even be able to scream.” The Handler gives you a surprised laugh, “Easy.” She states, glancing to the side at Lila. Who looks at you with a poker face, desperately trying to conceal her slight fear. Ever grateful for the current circumstances, involving more then just her and you.

“We’re on official business.” Explains the Handler to Five.

“And what business is that?” He snaps back with restrained anger.

“As the head of the Commission, I’ve decided to eliminate the criminals responsible for the assassination of the former board of directors.” She says matter-of-factly, smiling sweetly at the three of you.

“Yeah right. We didn’t kill the board.” Replies Diego before Five interrupts him from speaking further, “Uh, actually, Diego, that’s not entirely accurate.” He says pursing his lips.

The Handler turns to Five with a smirk, “You didn’t tell them? Oh, Five.” She says while giving him a fake pout.

You lean in close to Five, “Five what the fuck didn’t you tell us?” You whisper, great what did the little shit forget to mention now?

He gives you a hard look, “What I had to do to get my family home. Until somebody reneged on our deal.” He ends, glaring at the Handler.

You stand back, folding your arms as you listen to Five and the Handler argue back and forth about their deal going sour. Then how shit the Commission has gotten, Diego adding in his own input much to the Handlers surprised offense. Then Lila speaks up, angry at Five for something he did. Done with everyone’s rambling, you turn to the Handler when she sets the black briefcase down. “Enough. The point is, all of you are going to die today. Hmm?” She states, so sure of herself.

“Oh, really now?” You raise an eyebrow at her before continuing, “There’s eight of us, and two of you. If you haven’t noticed.” Telling her bluntly, ready just to finally be done with all this shit.

She gives you a knowing smile, “You know, you’re right. Let’s change that.” With a snap of her fingers, an army of Commission assassins zap into the field, ready to kill.

You, Diego, and Five look on in shock and a healthy amount of fear, “So, what do we do now?” Diego whispers to the two of you.

“Well, we got two choices: fight and die now, or run and die later. Either way, we’re food for worms.” Five replies nervously.

“Preference.” Diego questions.

“Wouldn’t mind a few more minutes breathing through the old windpipes.” Retorts Five.

“I can’t get captured, and turned into a weapon for the Commission.” You panic, turning to them with pure dread in your eyes.

“All right. Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Says the Handler while checking her watch. A moment later she pulls out a red silk handkerchief, dangling it in the air.

“Come on!” Yells Five as he, You, and Diego start booking it back to the barn. Fuck.

“And why are we all wearing black? Like who’s funeral is it?” You randomly blurt out.

“Ours if we don’t run faster!” Diego shouts back at you.

#the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x you #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x you #number two #falcor the luck dragon stories #what a time to be alive fic #five hargreeves

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kimkymury · 3 years

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Blue Rose Tears - Chapter 14

Hello again,

I’m back with another chapter of the Pascal x Carl fanfiction. The story is coming to an end, there will only be two more chapters before the Carl Messier saga comes to an end, so stay tuned in the next updates.

This chapter is softer and cuter, so prepare your hearts for the next ~

The Portuguese version of this story is available on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1048844817-as-l%C3%A1grimas-da-rosa-azul-cap%C3%ADtulo-14

I'm also posting the English version there, so if you want to follow it over there or reread a chapter, here it is: https://www.wattpad.com/story/262308791-blue-rose-tears

Under the cut!

Chapter 14

P.O.V Narrator

Carl's restlessness had persisted for three weeks, a period of time considered even short, but that was enough to depress him. He rubbed his pale hands together, trying to keep them from the cold. Winter had come, Lacombrade was surrounded by a vast white desert, which made the whole atmosphere of the place even darker. The school corridors managed to keep the temperature cool even on the hottest summer days, and now it looked like the walls were meant to freeze them.

The last month of the year always seemed to be the most physically demanding, getting out of bed in the morning became a more arduous task than usual. All he could think about was the comfort he would receive after the end of the school year, he could return to his family's house and spend Christmas with Sebastian. The sky was greyish in color, as if life was not present in that place, making everything even darker. But young students had no time to notice details like this, most of their time was spent preparing for final exams.

This time of year was both a delight and a torture, veterans were immensely concerned with the possible approval of a renowned university, while the other students focused on impressing their parents with good grades. There was a small portion that didn’t care about the tests, it was those repeating students, delinquents or even those who had no goal in mind for the coming year. Carl found himself in the large percentage who devoted themselves entirely to studying, putting other needs aside for a short period of time.

His thoughts could not keep his focus only on the books he studied, several flaws took his concentration, making him frustrated by wasting time. A red-haired figure was still rooted in his mind, for three weeks he had avoided contemplating the image of the scientist, but the memories of past moments were alive inside him. That was still something that depressed him daily, he felt empty and dejected, what most led him to exhaustion was to act normally for his friends, avoiding any suspicious behavior. But life was not in Carl's favor, as if that wasn't enough to make him gloomy, he had still received sudden news.

Serge had recently said that he needed to talk to Carl in private, and that the matter was of the utmost importance. The religious boy did not know what to expect, a part of himself just asked what it could be, but another small part, in which his subtle fixation by the pianist still existed, made him nervous. He said it directly, without outspokenness or worries, explained the whole situation to his friend. Serge and Gilbert were leaving for Paris next week, and they had no intention of returning. The concept of the idea itself did not startle Carl, he had already heard stories of students who left Lacombrade without authorization or notice, deciding to live on their own or with a partner elsewhere. But when it came to his friends, his reaction was different, he feared what might happen.

He knew that life in Paris would be complicated, especially for two young men who had not even reached the age of majority, and were marginalized by all of society. His first concern was whether his friends would have somewhere to sleep and what to eat, and how they would survive until Serge officially received his title of Viscount, along with his father's possessions and inheritance.

Knowing Gilbert, he imagined that it would not be easy for him to live in an environment where he would be completely unprotected, not to mention the absence of his social skills. There were no questions or doubts, he knew all of Serge's motivations and how difficult the last few days have been for both of them, as he and his roommate were forcibly separated. It was not the time to expose his own insecurities, he should support his friends, even if he did not agree with his choice. He felt lonely, even though he was not literally alone, but everything would change over time.

Everyone grows up someday, the days of youth would eventually end, but that does not mean that this process would not be painful. Perhaps that was his farewell, there was a chance he would never see them again, especially after graduation. Carl just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before, when his life was under control, when he was happier. His reaction was neutral when he received the news from Serge, he made his concerns evident, but he never failed to support him.

He even offered to help them pack their belongings and organize their luggage. It would be a difficult time for everyone, especially for them, any sign of positivity and help was welcome.

The pianist was delighted with the response of the religious boy, just as he expected, he spared no thanks before going.

"I knew I could count on you." - A simple sentence that meant a lot to Carl

Being alone again, the dark-haired boy was left to reflect on what he was doing. After only a few minutes, he was able to firmly understand the gravity of the situation, and his despair began to surface. Breaking one of the school rules was not what frustrated him the most, but to be witnessing a sin without intervening, the motivations of his friends' flight were diverse, but the relationship they had was what most influenced the decision.

Even if he wanted to, he could not deny the request coming from Serge, he would not endure the guilt he would feel at the thought that it did not help in any way. Looking more closely, when he looked at Serge and Gilbert together, he didn't see anything negative. He felt a certain relief when he saw them close, as if this situation were natural and common, thoughts of judgment rarely appeared.

He recognized that the independence of the pianist would be extremely useful to live alone in Paris, but what intrigued him the most was how the blond boy's adaptation would take place. He hadn't handled changes, rules or responsibilities in general well, but Carl didn't criticize him for that, he just wished he didn't suffer. The empathy he felt for Gilbert gradually increased, and it was not long since he had an experience that made him look at it differently.

~ FlashBack from two weeks ago ~

Carl's warm breath left a mark in the air as he exhaled the cold winter air, with his clothes made especially for this harsh season, he felt protected from the cold that surrounded him. He was beginning to regret having gone for a walk around the school, he did not imagine that the thick layer of snow that covered the earth could slow his steps. The only sounds he could hear were the noises of the few animals that had not heard, along with the sound of the wind passing through the dry branches of the trees.

Nothing would be different from what he was used to, except for one detail that caught his attention, they were low noises that seemed to come from close by. He could not immediately identify what it was about, he imagined that it could be some wounded or abandoned animal, but as he followed the sound, he was surprised by what he saw.

A boy whose skin could camouflage himself in the snow thanks to his coloring, lying face down, totally immobile. Only a thin piece, which resembled sleeping clothes, covered his torso, leaving the rest of his body exposed. His blond hair covered his face, making it impossible to decide whether he was conscious or not. Around him there were red spots, together on his body and on the fabric that covered him, which made him resemble a deceased.

For a few seconds, Carl felt completely frozen, there was no reaction. His heart started to race, he quickly knelt beside the body, checking immediately if there was any sign of life left in him. He was not as surprised as he expected, after all, it was Gilbert, he had already seen him in situations similar to this one, although it was not as serious as this time. He turned him over and placed him in his arms, relieved to see that his cheeks were flushed and that he was breathing.

There was a cut on his lips, the red liquid spread over a part of his face, making Carl even more tense when he saw him in that state. He should call for help, leaving Gilbert in such a sick state in such precarious conditions could be considered a homicide. The school was a few meters from where they were, the blond boy visibly could not walk, he could barely stay fully awake. The religious boy would have to carry him until he found someone who could help him, which immediately made him think of Pascal.

It was not the time for such thoughts to take hold of him, his greatest concern was to keep Gilbert alive, he could not bear to see him leave precisely in his arms, when he could save him.

"Gilbert, answer me, please! Can you hear me?" - He asked distressed, fearing that the worst had happened.

The younger boy's icy hands moved in vain, trying to reach something that didn't exist, while his lips trembled due to the low temperature. He was staring at a specific point, although he blinked a few times, before looking at whoever held it.

"Serge ..." - A faint murmur came out in an almost inaudible tone, a single word was able to sadden Carl.

Gilbert did not care for himself, at no time did he cry out for help or any kind of comfort, he just longed for the presence of his beloved pianist. He didn't think he could be confused with Serge, so he supposed it was a request for him to be taken to him. The communication methods of the green-eyed boy were confusing, subjective and not always coherent, but those who knew him the longest could understand. Carl quickly removed his coat and put it around Gilbert, trying to keep him warm; and with a handkerchief that he kept in his pocket, he wiped away most of the blood that spread on his face.

"I will have to carry you, please, hold on a little longer!" - Wrapping his arms around his thin, weak body, he used all the strength he had to get him out of the snow and take him to school.

It was easier than he imagined, the blond boy's lightness made him easy to hold, it made him increase his speed in the direction he had come from. Along the way, he constantly checked vital signs by pressing his hand on Gilbert's chest, where he could feel the slight contractions of breathing and heartbeat. Upon entering Lacombrade, he quickly ran to the infirmary, asking for immediate help and handing the boy over to one of the teachers to put him on a bed. It didn't take long before more people came to know what happened, but the only thing that interested him was Serge.

Carl managed to catch sight of him from a distance, and waved as he came running towards her. He was taken by surprise, a desolate embrace enveloped him, he had to hold on to whoever was in front of him so as not to lose his balance.

"We were told what happened, we came as quickly as we could, Pascal and Kurt will be here soon"- The pianist wraps around him in torment, his voice could express the pain he felt.

Still in silence, he hugged him back, saying words of comfort to calm him down. He doubted his own words, prayed internally that Gilbert would resist, he couldn't leave now. His condition was serious, perhaps worse than the other occasions that found him injured. They were anxiously waiting for Professor Watts to bring good news, he still remembered the blond boy's expression when he stared at him. Time passed quickly, Pascal's medical care would certainly make a difference in Gilbert's improvement. He was still asleep, only one of the boys could enter at a time, which made everyone even more anxious.

The countless thanks from Serge soothed him, as he knew he had been useful, and if he hadn't made the decision to go for a walk, the blond boy would probably not be among them.

Carl was the last to enter the room where Gilbert rested, accepting only by requests from his friends and teachers, since he was the one who had saved him from death. The sight of the young blond man sleeping soundly was a relief to the religious boy, he could observe the movements of his breathing, and his appearance seemed healthier. He approached lightly and cautiously, already imagining a possible outbreak from the blond boy, similar in other situations that occurred in the past when they tried to help him.

The eyes of the one who slept before opened slowly, trying to understand what was happening and where he was. To the surprise of the dark-haired boy, there was no aggressive or immediate reaction, it was as if he was conscious all this time. Gilbert looked at Carl with his usual empty expression, which left him a little scared and at the same time paralyzed, he feared the younger boy, even if he did not admit it, perhaps because he did not fully understand him.

"Where did you bring me?" - A low and soft voice asked, without showing much emotion.

"We are in the infirmary, how are you feeling?" -He replied hesitantly, since he had not had the chance to have a dialogue considered "appropriate" with Gilbert.

The blond boy sat on the bed, despite the protests of the dark-haired boy, saying that he shouldn't be bothered and needed to rest. He wrapped himself in the blankets and covered his face with his hands, as if he were avoiding being seen in such a vulnerable state.

"You didn't have to do that ... I would be better out there." - Gilbert said as he rested his head on his knees, raising just a little to look at him.

He could feel his pain with just one sentence, knew his "bad habits", knew that he tried several times to take his own life. A feeling of sadness invaded Carl, even though he didn't know him well enough to give his opinion on something, he didn't want to see him suffering like that.

"I had to do it, you would die if you were still there!" -Carl said anguished, not understanding the reason behind Gilbert's behavior, and blamed himself for having sounded more emotional than he expected.

There was a silence, none of them said anything else after that, and the religious boy felt that he should go back to his own room. Gilbert was safe and he had been useful, just as he should have been. He said goodbye and started walking towards the door, stopping in front of it after hearing something.

"Thank you ..." - The green-eyed boy said as he watched him leave the infirmary, in an almost inaudible and emotionless voice on his face.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" - Thinking he was wrong, Carl asks what was said, he never heard Gilbert say something like that.

"I said thank you, now leave me alone ..." - He replied, using an arrogant tone this time, making it evident that he was not comfortable saying this kind of thing.

The religious boy did as he was asked, but from this day on, he started to have more compassion for Gilbert, seeing him in a more humanized way. The blond boy felt that he could trust Carl, if only a little. Both established a bond that determined the beginning of a friendship, perhaps in a peculiar and dark way, but it was still important.

~ End of Flashback ~

Thoughts like this made the future farewell a difficult task, but his restlessness was filled daily with studies and chores, which took up most of his time as the end of the year approached. His winter afternoons, which in the past used to be quiet, were now spent within the Church, taking up full-time Bible studies. He had decided to dedicate himself to Theology after graduation, leaving Lacombrade in about a year or two, along with the memories he created there.

The innumerable verses were not enough to erase the images that haunted him, the moments he spent in the greenhouse or in the laboratory were still fresh in his mind. He constantly martyred himself, because even after he left the scientist, his presence continued as much in his life as in his thoughts. None of his friends had known of the disagreement that had occurred between them, which made it all the more difficult, since they saw each other frequently and could not make evident the coldness with which they treated each other.

The days that followed had not been easy for Pascal either, he could hardly keep his concentration on his experiments, and his failures frustrated him more than usual. From the laboratory window, he could occasionally watch Carl walking around or heading towards the Church, and this was a way to fill his loneliness. He was preparing to leave Lacombrade in a few weeks, but his main concern at the moment was with the escape of his friends. He had carefully planned how he could help, and all the advice he could give before he left.

His letter to the German University had been answered recently, along with an invitation to the admission test that would guarantee his entry, even with his poor academic performance. For days he had been rehearsing inside his head how he would say this to others, he did not worry about their reaction, he already imagined it would be at least positive. What distressed him was the dark-haired boy, according to the circumstances, it was not appropriate to just say it as he would have done in the past, but he could not leave in secret. At the same time that he yearned for new opportunities and a decrease in his pain, he knew that he would suffer for not having him around, and that made him reflect more than he would like.

Pascal was to leave with the veterans, travel to the neighboring country to accomplish his parents' ambition, and which in the future would become his own. His departure date would be close to when Serge and Gilbert left for Paris, the second week of December would be one of the most turbulent. Part of the luggage was ready, the farewell and thank you cards were already written, it was enough to wait anxiously for that day. He still had one more concern, he didn't tell anyone he was leaving Lacombrade, and he had no idea how to do it. He reluctantly made the decision to tell his closest friends about his departure, and kindly asked them not to say anything to Carl, as he wanted to say it on another occasion. The boys were suspicious, which was in fact natural, as they assumed he would be the first to know, but they listened to the scientist and did what was asked.

His sisters and parents were informed afterwards, they would probably receive his letter after departure, but he explained in detail the reasons for his choice and what he would do next. In the letter, he said goodbye to each of his sisters, asking them how they were doing and making them promise to keep in touch.

Dorothy, Mei, Nina, Lila, Sonya and, her favorite among all, Patricia; he expressed the immense longing to have them close by, and that he would endeavor to make them proud. He reserved a part of his letter dedicated to his parents and his half brother, Michel, who had recently fallen ill again. He couldn't help it and was a little thrilled by rereading the words dedicated to his younger brother, he was very concerned about his fragile health and recommended frequent rest and healthy eating.

Part of his duties had been done, now he must prepare himself to be as convenient as possible to assist Serge and Gilbert's escape. He then decided to write a series of instructions, recipes and advice for when they are in Paris, and knowing the blond boy well, he focused on teaching the pianist to take care of injuries and advising him on how to deal with possible outbreaks of his companion. The written pages were carefully folded and placed inside a small wooden box, where there were some medicines, produced by Pascal himself. This served both as a substitute doctor and as a reminder of him. A considerable amount of money was placed in the middle of the medications, just before being closed and tied tightly with a ribbon, in order to withstand the long journey.

The redhead sighs looking at the calendar again, the end of the year was approaching faster than he would have liked, and to make matters worse, it was not ending the way he would have liked. The classes that day had ended, the scientist insisted on attending all of them, as he wished to have Lacombrade's memories recorded in his mind. There was nothing more to be done, he could do whatever he wanted until nightfall, boredom chased him as he walked slowly through the laboratory. Harvesting specimens of plants that survived the winter did not sound bad, it would be a good distraction to prevent bad thoughts from depressing him.

With reasonably slow steps and a calm expression, Pascal heads for the greenhouse, passing the corridors full of students. That everyday scene managed to awaken a feeling of nostalgia in him, which made him happy and saddened at the same time. In the midst of that crowd, the faces of the boys who walked there were mixed and confused, he was unable to recognize them, except for one in particular. A boy with white skin and a little pink from exposure to low temperature, with perfectly combed dark hair, came towards him while carrying a small pile of books.

They walked in opposite directions, there was not even an exchange of glances, both went on their way without imagining what was going on in the other's mind. The dark-haired young man hid the tension he had felt when he saw the scientist in a discreet way, rushing his steps to the library, while trying to appear overly frightened not to arouse suspicion. His efforts were not in vain, Pascal firmly believed that his presence was not noticed and there was no relevance to Carl, which hurt him deeply. The attention of those who wanted it so much and who had always been by his side, was now a very rare event to happen, and it was always covered by a thick layer of coldness and formality.

He rubbed his hands, warmed by wool gloves, in order to relieve the pain he felt at his fingertips. There were few species of plants that were able to withstand the dense layers of snow, most of which consisted of dry branches or leaves that could fall apart with a single touch. Walking in a straight line, he crossed a part of the forest and ended up finding a large building in front of him. It was the well-known chapel of Lacombrade, he did not agree with the choice of name, the structure was too majestic, a masterpiece of architecture to be considered just a chapel.

It had been some time since he had visited such a place, he would go only in times of extreme need, he was not interested in religion at all. Even with his lack of belief in the divine, he could not deny that he was able to admire every part of that wonderful building, he was enchanted by the details and the grandeur of the torrers. He watched the small snowflakes falling delicately in different regions, especially under a cross that was at the top of the Church. It was this same cross that facilitated the identification of the building over long distances, and it was the one that cast a long shadow on summer afternoons, where the sun was in the perfect position.

The scientist remained motionless for a few seconds, lost in thought, and feeling foolish for what he was about to say to himself:

"I doubt your existence, I don't think you are around here or anywhere else." - He said in an almost inaudible tone of voice, still keeping his eyes towards the sky - "But if it is, do not allow that depressive countenance to remain on Carl's face ..."

He did not believe that his words could change anything, he quickly moved away from the Church and walked in a random direction, berating himself for speaking to a being, who for Pascal, was nonexistent. His words might seem vague, but his intentions did not, he could see the changes in the religious boy's behavior from a distance. He no longer smiled as often, he isolated himself from his other companions, with whom he had always accompanied him before.

He could use whatever excuses he wanted, he didn't want to appear arrogant, but he felt that such changes had occurred thanks to what they felt for each other. Pascal still remembered perfectly the moment when Carl confessed everything he felt, remembered how strong his heart was beating and the feeling of the last time they embraced.

The same boy who missed him so much, was now surrounded by books, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and continue to read them. The most varied subjects were not enough to keep him focused, his mind was often lost in thoughts that he wanted to avoid. The causes of his distraction were the most diverse, he was concerned about the escape plan that would take place on Friday night, he feared that his lack of concentration would hamper his performance in the final tests.

It wasn't just that that troubled him, Pascal's image came to mind when he least expected it. He missed his presence, his conversations, having him around and all the good times they shared, delving into this type of memory was what made him worse. But there were other sensations that young Carl remembered more than he would like, he lowered his head when he remembered the arms around him, and the texture of his lips next to his. He felt like a failure for not being able to forget, but deep down, he wished he could experience it all again.

The dark-haired boy reflected on how difficult the past weeks had been, it frustrated and tired him. He felt prickled in his head, which made it more difficult for him to concentrate and caused continuous discomfort. Such pain was caused by the excess of alcohol he had consumed the night before, he used to drink when he felt frustrated, but what was something occasional, started to be a recurring habit.

Most of the time, the amount was not enough to make him drunk, but the dark-haired boy had crossed his limits yesterday. He needed to get his feelings out, his frustrations were too heavy for him to carry on in silence. The bottles hidden in his closet were his confidants, the only ones that saw him in his most deplorable state.

He felt weak, he knew it would happen if he drank more than he was used to, so why did he insist on continuing? He was becoming what he promised not to become, he feared that those bad habits were his only reason for living.

Fiery waters erode inside him, inflict so much pain on him that he is able to forget what it really hurts.

"The only moments I stop thinking about this is when I can't even think ..."

His greatest comfort was the calendar, the days passed quickly and the moment when he returned home was getting closer and closer. That year's vacation would be a good one, he could stay with his family during the holidays, and maybe even travel together. He planned every detail of the next two months in his head, which served as a distraction and gave him hope. He would participate in dances, he could cycle around the house with Sebastian, just like when they were younger; he would wake up without the worries and fear of judgment.

He would walk the long corridors of his house, listening only to the sound of his own steps, read all the books he wished and enjoy the visits of family and friends. It all seemed too perfect, and it really was, all he wanted most were moments of joy like these. But everything was still not quite right, the harsh reality would come back to haunt him at the beginning of the following year.

He would feel even more alone, thinking about how Serge and Gilbert would be living on their own in Paris, facing the dangers that surrounded Lacombrade outside.

He focused on what was about to happen, he would need to be there that needed his help, he could take care of his own problems alone, after everything was over. Everyone had been informed in detail about the big day, counting down the minutes to Friday night, where they allowed friends to achieve freedom and hope for a happier life. Carl felt anxious, feared that they would be discovered, that something unexpected would happen, or worse, that they would not be able to survive outside.

This was his biggest fear at the moment, he realized recently that his feelings towards the pianist had diminished considerably. He no longer saw him as an idol or someone unreachable for some time, his presence turned into something normal, and his anguish about this matter seemed to be finally disappearing.

There was only one thing about Serge that Carl longed for: his happiness. He was delighted at how devoted, loyal and enamored the pianist was for his blond companion, when he saw them together, it was as if they could complement each other in some way. He saw them as opposites, which was really true, but they worked perfectly well together.

They were kindred spirits, that was a fact, however immoral and sinful Carl might find, he somehow wanted to experience it. He dreamed of being able to have someone by his side, someone who knew him better than anyone else and that he felt completely comfortable being himself. The young Carl Messier longed for someone to love, and when he was finally able to find ...

The sentence was not completely formulated in his mind, because soon after he started to cry among the books, silently and with caution so that he would not be noticed by the other students. He begged for forgiveness and to give him strength, it was the moment when he needed it most.

A few days have passed since what happened in the library, which Carl would rather not remember and imagine that nothing happened. He was now in room 17, surrounded by suitcases and crates, along with his friends. They had agreed to assist Serge and Gilbert in packing their belongings before the trip, since all help was welcome and it was another opportunity to spend a moment together before leaving. That half of the second week of December had been hectic for everyone, those who were staying were busy preparing for the final exams, and those who were leaving longed for their longed-for freedom, and took every possible care not to be discovered.

The room seemed even smaller with the number of people present; Kurt and Neka, boasting of their physical strength and athletic build, chose to carry whatever was heavier. Serge and Gilbert carefully removed their clothes from the closet and folded them on the bed, the blond boy preferred to do this silently and alone, while the pianist talked to little Sebastian, who helped him with the task. And lastly, Pascal and Carl arranged the books in small piles and tied them up so they wouldn't be wrinkled during the trip. Although they did the same task, the two boys remained physically distant, each preferring to occupy an opposite side of the room.

The presence of everyone made the atmosphere more pleasant, although they had to pretend that nothing had happened between the two, that they remained close as always. This made the situation even more embarrassing for both of them, who struggled to maintain physical and emotional distance.

There were many moments when they exchanged glances across the room, they looked at each other frequently and tried to hide it afterwards, they could feel the tension rising in the air. The little space did not contribute to the distance, since they had to get out of the way so that Kurt and Neka could carry the heaviest luggage around the room. They were sitting on the bed of Serge, the red-haired scientist with Carl, beside a pile of books and other objects. Gilbert sat on his own bed, close to Serge and Sebastian, who watched the other two boys position their bags in the center of the room.

The religious boy greatly appreciated the fact that his brother was sociable enough to be able to hold a conversation for a long time, preventing the awkward silence from taking over the room.

The body language of Pascal and the boy who was now sitting next to him could not deceive anyone. They avoid eye contact and act as if the presence of the other does not exist, hoping that this will not be seen strangely. In a moment of carelessness, where everyone engaged in casual conversation, Carl was distracted from the subject and lost himself in his thoughts. He admired Pascal carefully, watching the details of his appearance and trying to see if anything had changed during the time they stayed away.

His red, tousled hair remained the same, perhaps a little longer than he had noticed the last time, sometimes falling in front of his eyes. Carl realized what he was doing, and punished himself mentally for it, the withdrawal would be of no use if his mentality remained the same. He didn't know how long he had fixed his eyes on the red-haired boy, but he just hoped it wasn't long enough to be noticed. Unfortunately, the person the religious boy had so praised earlier for keeping the conversation flowing was responsible for exposing what he so longed to hide.

"What's the matter, Carl? Do you see something that caught your attention?" - The younger boy said, mocking his brother.

He hesitated to answer for a second, everyone was looking at him curiously now, he felt frozen and avoided this as much as possible. He made a point of mentally recalling having a conversation with Sebastian later, being irritated by looking like a fool. His brother looked at him with a mischievous smile, as if he knew something

"What are you talking about? Don't change the subject so suddenly." - Carl luckily was able to formulate a convincing sentence, he returned to the topic that was being discussed before Sebastian's provocation

Fortunately, there was not much more to be done, in a few minutes they all went back to their respective rooms. The corridor of room 17 was empty now, except for the presence of two brothers, who enjoyed the silence to talk. Carl made Sebastian wait for everyone to leave to talk to him, he seemed authoritarian, but that didn't bother his younger brother. The younger boy already hoped that his antics would have a consequence, but that only served to amuse him even more. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a smile on his face, Sebastian asks his brother:

"What would you like to talk about, Carl?"

Cynical as always, it irritated the older brother from time to time, because he did not have this malice when he was his age. Discussions between them were rare, Carl usually scolded him and he smiled as if he didn't care.

"Keep your inopportune comments to yourself ..." - He replied with a serious expression, trying to command respect, which didn't work much.

Sebastian never saw him as an authority figure, even though he tried very hard to make it happen, in the end he was still his good older brother, victim of his mischief. His comment did not bother the youngest boy at all, on the contrary, he only made him smile before positioning himself in front of him. With a childish and innocent laugh, the younger brother subtly mocked the sermon he was receiving.

"Be smart, hiding that you love someone makes everything more noticeable, I've told you that before!" - Sebastian said before running out towards his own room, which was in the opposite direction from room 17.

The religious boy, perplexed by what he had just heard, did not answer anything and stayed there for a few moments. He did not believe that someone as young as his brother, managed to understand the real reason for his behavior. He wondered what else he could know and be omitting, he feared rumors would spread through Lacombrade, since his brother was Rosemariné's assistant. He would be more cautious from now on, especially with Sebastian, as his childish appearance was only a cover for his great intelligence. Indeed, one of the most pure and naive young men, he had the precocious brother he could ever have.

Continued in the next chapter

Written by KimKymury, Thank you for reading it <3

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brkndark · 4 years

Text

Somewhere To Hide

It is also on ao3

He found that with deviancy, came more of a need for relaxation, and there were very few things that relaxed Connor like a good game of fetch did.

He liked the repetitive sensation of it. Reel back, look to Sumo, aim precisely, toss and then follow through. It was like the most enjoyable maintenance check ever. Hank hated that he called it that. Just throw the damn ball.

Through fault of his excitement, there were times when Sumo missed the ball. After all, he was a living creature with imperfections. After a few previous successful rounds, Connor watched this time as Sumo overcalculated, snapping his jaws shut as the ball bounced off of his face, onto the ground, back up into the air and then sailed into the bushes. The St. Bernard looked like he wanted to pounce for it but likely due to past experiences, he jumped around the bush, ultimately not being able to fit through. Connor smiled and wandered over to the bush.

“It’s okay, Sumo,” he said. He would not have done that before, knowing that the dog couldn't possibly understand him. Just something he picked up while being here. “I will retrieve it for you, and then we can get on with our game.”

Sumo seemed satisfied, panting happily away. He'd have to take that as some confirmation he understood. Connor smiled again and crouched on the ground, seeking the lost ball.

He reached out a hand, feeling over the soil. That was another thing he would have done differently before the humans came into his life. Usually he would have gone straight for the scan, but lately he had found delight in stalling his tasks to just enjoy being in the moment. He liked feeling the earth beneath him. Just being alive.

Still, there wasn't any use in wasting your talents. Connor found the brush to be thick and mostly opaque and his fingers grasped nothing. He resigned to using his environmental scan. Hank was always jealous whenever he lost something.

Connor got on his knees as the world turned gray and he looked around. As expected, a yellow notification popped up and Connor double scanned it, confirming that it was indeed the tennis ball.

“Bingo.”

Reaching for it, he pulled his arm back, projecting it onto the grass. A chipper bark from Sumo confirmed that it was free and Connor heard snuffling about. He was likely ready to continue.

“I’m coming, boy.” Connor called, starting to retreat back. “Just one...second.”

His arm moved back and another notification popped up in his vision. Something else in the bush, foreign like the tennis ball. It didn't belong there so it had to come out. Connor would be the one to do that.

He tilted his head and reached for it, hand curling around a slab of concrete. He picked it up carefully and when he brought it closer, he noticed some writing scrawled onto it under a layer of dirt. He wiped away so he could comfortably scan it. He didn't anticipate feeling the blue blood freeze in his veins.

Markus Manfred

2038-2039

May he rise again

All systems were operational, yet Connor found that he could suddenly not move. An icy fist gripped his thirium pump as he stared at the stone, seemingly hypnotized. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Events started to play out in his mind. Markus was dead. That didn't make sense. But he absolutely should be. Connor had almost made sure of it. He saw the gun. Fire. blue blood. Tears. Explosions. The sound of someone shrieking. A disapproving look. From who? Connor couldn't tell. The images fled too fast for him to keep track, yet he still felt their presence. Markus’ mangled body was on the ground; something he couldn't remember. But he could see it, clear as day. A wave of darkness washed over him, dragging him under.

He had to get out of here.

He launched himself backwards. Or he would have had his jacket not gotten snagged on a prickly branch. He yanked it around, finding himself trapped in its puncture. It shook stubbornly as he struggled. He tried to reach behind him but he slipped, hands planting themselves in the dirt and leaves cascaded below. He stretched his legs out, grounding his knees and pulled with his shoulders.

The nature he had recently found so comforting was now suffocating him as he became uncomfortably aware of every leaf, stick and pebble touching him. This wasn't the sweet sanctuary he worked so hard to build. Instead, it morphed into something hauntingly familiar. Water flowed from somewhere in the distance. The sun beat down on him like a searchlight and the sickly sweet aroma of flowers filled his senses. Someone who wasn't there felt like they were closing in. Connor’s eyes darted frantically as he began to panic.

Finally, the branch let go with a riiip! and Connor fell onto his side, scrambling away from the bush. For a moment he just lied there, frozen in time. It was silent, save for the wind rustling the leaves and the thirium roaring in his ears. His thirium pump pounded in his vacant chest intrudingly so. An uncomfortable heat was building inside of him and he wanted it out.

Instead of breathing, androids had a program in them that ventilated by pushing air through them in a circular motion. The air comes in, it goes through, and then comes out in a calming pattern. The next “breath” was guaranteed to replenish you, but Connor found that now the air was only going up and down, like he was pumping up a balloon with no progress. The heat was trapped. He was trapped and he would never escape.

Suddenly, there was a new sound. He heard footsteps pounding against the ground in a hurry. There must have been something amis. If there was an emergency then he should be able to help. Get up, Connor.

“Connor? Connor! What the fuck happened?”

He was jostled into a sitting position and being supported upwards. Connor tried running a diagnostic test but to no avail; his vision began to cloud with static. On the edges of it he found Hank’s gaze, firm and concerned. The feeling of comfort left just as quickly as it arrived.

After several more failed diagnostic attempts, Connor reached out in the only way he could remember how. Grabbing Hank’s arms at his elbows, he trained his eyes on Hank’s face.

“That’s it, son,” Hank breathed, somewhat relieved at the joined eye contact. “I think you're...hyperventilating. Think we can slow that down?”

What? Connor sucked in a greedy breath and held it to snuff out the panting he had been replicating involuntarily. He followed Hank’s example; in and out. In and out.

Throughout this, Hank watched him closely, careful to take it one step at a time. He had never seen such a sight with Connor before. The yard was dug up and he was a mess, his jacket ripped open from the back and dirt and mud all over him. He had to slow down just to take it all in. Connor looked absolutely frightened. Once he was quieter, Hank commented again.

“Let's get you cleaned up. You’re bleeding all over my arm here, c’mon.”

Connor looked down at himself and sure enough, there was a nasty gash on his palm. It had stained both his hand and Hank’s arm blue. That was the second thing he had failed to detect.

Much like his legs wobbling as they made their way to the house, Connor’s lip quivered as he threatened to succumb to the fear bubbling over inside of him. He tried to focus on the man beside him. Hank was here right now. Cyberlife was...elsewhere. Always watching with their hand on the button. Out of sight.

Once they stepped inside, Connor lost all of his composure and crumpled to the ground, holding himself tightly and squeezing his eyes shut, but it was no use. Tears leaked out of his eyes as he began to sob brokenly. Hank was gone for only a second before he returned, pressing something soft into Connor’s hand.

“Jesus, Connor. What’s going on?” worried Hank.

Connor squeezed the cotton with a shaking fist as it absorbed the thirium leaking out of him.

“We were playing,” Connor started, his voice shaking. “Sumo and I were playing in the yard and the ball rolled into the Garden…” his breath hitched with a hiccup. Hank quirked an eyebrow, beginning to rub his hands up and down Connor’s arms with comfort.

“I wouldn't exactly call it a garden, kid. One sad looking bush, maybe. I’ve never even touched it.”

They were quiet for a minute, Connor struggling to find some speaking room while Hank mulled over his words.

“Sorry, that...wasn’t right.”

“The Garden,” Connor continued. “There was something else, a-a gravestone. Markus’ name was on it i-i…”

Sumo took this opportune moment to come back inside with said stone in his mouth. He dropped it before them on the ground and Connor jumped slightly.

“There!” he gasped, covering his face with his hands. “It’s his name on it, he's dead I…”

Hank picked it up with one hand, shifting it around under the light. He studied it high and low but ultimately came up inconclusive.

“Con, this thing’s blank. Are you messing with me?”

Connor slowly lowered his hands, ready to counter that statement. But sure enough, Hank was right. He scanned it but came up with nothing. It was ordinary. Connor shook his head.

“No...no, Sumo must have retrieved the wrong one-”

“Connor,” Hank soothed, pushing his hair back. “It’s okay. You're just a little freaked out.”

He paused. “I think you confused this crap for...something else. Markus is fine. Remember? The whole revolution thing? We won. We just saw him a couple of days ago.”

Connor looked broken, tilting his head back as tears streamed down his cheeks. He searched his memory again and saw himself conversing with Markus. Their first casual conversation. Standing on the steps of Carl’s house. He was laughing. He was alive.

“Yes” he whispered. “I remember now. I…” he looked at the stone. It was blank now. It should have made him feel better, but he gripped it with fury.

“This never happened. It could have, but...it didn't.”

“Right,” Hank confirmed. “You’re just remembering shit from the past.” This was all so bizarre and new to the both of them. “It’s a part of being human, kid. Stuff creeps up on you.”

Connor sniffled, gritting his teeth. “I find that inapplicable. Sumo and I were just playing. Why would I resift through irrelevant information? Events that never even occurred?” Hank sighed and shook his head.

“You’ve had a lot to process. Trauma is...well, it’s shit kid. It sure as hell ain’t convenient. That’s how it goes.”

Connor couldn’t wrap his head around it. He grimaced at this confusing information.

“I hate it!” he wailed. “I don't want to feel like this.”

He went silent for a while, but Hank was patient. A flash of something grim crossed his eyes before he took a shuddering breath.

“I am going to purge my memory.”

Hank’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Hey hey hey hold on. You're not going to purge anything.” He held Connor’s face in his hands, watching as the tears poured over. “You do that and youre just gonna fuck yourself up. I wish I could do that, kid. I really do,” his voice cracked. “But you can’t when you're human. That's a part of the experience.”

Connor sniffled again, looking at him with wide, questioning eyes.

“Life?”

Hank sighed and then nodded.

“Yeah. That’s life. Sucks I know. But I think it’s probably better than…”

A glance at poor Connor told him that whatever he was about to say was better left unsaid.

“Forget it. Uh…” he seemed at a loss for words. He looked down at Connor’s hand. “Let’s take a look at this, okay?”

Connor nodded and let Hank take away the cotton. It was still bleeding slowly but that was not what unnerved Hank. Connor was shaking profusely and when Hank dabbed at the wound, he found the area to be surprisingly hot. He frowned.

“Tell me this temperature is normal.”

Connor let out a shaky sigh, looking defeated. “It is not. I am in distress and trying to keep self destruction at bay. This is the best my body can do.”

Hank nodded, wiping the horrified expression off of his face quickly. “Yeah okay. It would be great if you could keep that up.”

Hank felt silly thinking this all would be easy. In his opinion, androids were designed to be the perfect human, never out of line and rarely an inconvenience. Of course it did not seem like that way for him from the start, but he now found that the positives outweighed the negatives. The gap between android and human was there, but Hank felt that Connor was more human than most of the people he knew. He learned something new about him everyday. Usually pleasant. And even though this was definitely an unpleasant situation, it presented him with an opportunity.

Coming back to the present, Hank realized that Connor had started to cry again. The poor kid was totally overwhelmed. As if finally sensing the tension, Sumo padded up and sniffed at the android’s face. Connor sagged into the dog’s touch, reveling in the feeling of the soft fur against his skin while Hank mulled over his dilemma. He felt useless, not knowing what being an android was like. On the other hand, he had tons of experience being a human.

He reached a tentative hand for Connor going unnoticed and settled on his shoulder, rubbing calming sensations that hopefully conveyed what he wanted to say. Connor jumped a little, but it was apparently the right thing to do, because he switched from the dog’s embrace to the man’s and clung to him desperately. Hank closed his eyes, swallowing a lump in his throat as he did his best to comfort Connor.

“That’s it, kid. You’ll be okay. I’ll be right here when you are.”

It wasn't much, but it seemed to do the trick and Hank felt Connor relax ever so slightly in his hold. If it weren't for their proximity, Hank would have missed Connor’s small sweet voice.

“It may take many trials and we are likely to experience more difficulties like this. Deviancy has proven to be a lot less predictable than I hoped.”

Hank smiled and pulled away so he could look at Connor’s face. “Shit’s always difficult. You're taking it like a champ. Don't beat yourself up.” he ruffled Connors' hair playfully. “Let me know if there's anything i can do.”

Connor looked grateful, finally giving him a small smile. He looked at him through soft, weary eyes. “Do you think we could give Markus a call?”

Hank nodded almost immediately. “Sure, kid. I think you both could use one of those. First, you should get out of these rags; there's clothes in the laundry. Go crazy.”

Connor selected an oversized sweatshirt, warm and dry from the dryer. Once his old clothes were taken care of, he slipped the sweatshirt over his head and sighed under the toasty weight. It smelled of whiskey and sweets, immediately replacing the stench of the garden.

Not another word about it was uttered that night, but when later that week Connor had noticed the shrub missing from its roots, he made sure to not let his gratitude go unsaid.

#DBHSecretSanta2020 #DetroitBecomeHuman #DBH #brkndark #its pretty angsty but i hope you find it kind of sweet

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con-fection · 4 years

Text

ASHES TO ASHES | jim moriarty x reader | part 2/13

Word count: 4.7K

"Sherlock," John says, for what is quite possibly the third time in a row. He sighs in frustration, his eyes darting between Sherlock's phone, which is set on the kitchen counter and has been ringing incessantly for the past half hour, effectively disrupting the peace in 221B, and Sherlock himself, who is positioned on his armchair, his elbows on his knees and his hands interlocked in front of his face.

"Not now, John. I'm thinking." Sherlock shakes his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, focusing in on something imperceptible.

"Right, well, I'll get it shall I?" John says, mostly to himself. He rises from the sofa, striding over to the kitchen to grasp the phone. "Hello? Oh, hi Greg. No, no, he's here. He's thinking. Yes, I'll let him know. Yes, thanks. Bye."

John turns around, eyeing Sherlock and waiting for any form of reaction. He doesn't even blink. His spine remains ramrod straight, but the tips of his fingers are twitching slightly, tapping rhythmically against his knuckles. He'd been trapped in a cycle of thinking and tossing away clients since he had last seen Moriarty - it was rather disturbing.

"Sherlock," He tries again. John really is one of the only people that Sherlock depends on, or even tolerates, and he's probably one of the only people that can tell when something has really got to Sherlock. Moriarty is under his skin, he has been in some way for years, starting with the murder of Carl Powers, and culminating with the bombs.

"Not now, John. I'm - "

"Thinking. Yes, I know that." John snaps slightly, huffing. The frustration is evident in his voice, but he shakes it off quickly, disregarding it in favour of a calmer, more patient tone. "Greg just called - "

Sherlock finally blinks, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. His gaze finally diverts from his interlocked hands to John. "Who?"

"Greg Lestrade, the man who you've worked with for literal years. You have known him longer than you have known me. You have a case." John explains.

Much like any knowledge of the solar system, Lestrade's name is simply deleted from Sherlock's mind, redacted on the basis of it being irrelevant. To John, it seems painfully rude, but to Sherlock, it's an everyday practice - he constantly filters out information that he deems not to be useful enough, disregarding it and then replacing it with something new, something more useful. Something smart, something interesting. And as far as Sherlock is concerned 'Greg' is neither of those things.

"Why didn't you just say so?" Sherlock looks mildly surprised, letting his hands drop and standing up, rising from his armchair. "And I think you mean that we have a case, John."

"Yes, alright, we." John begrudgingly agrees, tossing Sherlock his phone. The taller man catches it with ease, before shrugging his coat on and stuffing it into a pocket.

---

"So, ah, what happened?" Is the first thing that tumbles from John's mouth as he and Sherlock enter Lestrade's office at the police station. The door swings shut behind them, but he can still sense Donovan's burning stare at his back, piercing through the door.

Lestrade is sat at his desk, a collection of pictures strewn around him, haloed by sunlight spilling in from the window behind him. Some of the pictures have been pinned to a corkboard on the wall, connected to each other by thumbtacks and neon-coloured string. He looks rather thankful for Sherlock's presence, his shoulders sagging instantly in relief.

"Right, well, murder and arson." Lestrade says, turning one of the pictures around. Sherlock and John quickly crowd around it, both vying to see the charred skeleton of a house.

"That doesn't look much like London." John says, squinting slightly.

"Well, it's not really London London, you know? It's only London technically." Lestrade supplies, shrugging slightly.

John nods. "So, it's in your jurisdiction, but barely. And, ah, when exactly did this all happen? Do you have like an estimated time of death?"

"This morning." Lestrade says. "The fire started pretty early - we can be relatively certain that the victims were killed in the night or this morning. Our killer was pretty quick about it. We're not sure if anything's missing yet."

"Strange fire pattern," Sherlock remarks, his eyes flitting over all of the pictures. "I assume our perpetrator used an accelerant - most likely gasoline, which they would have poured throughout the house judging by the consistency of the burning. I'm guessing that the fire began in the basement?"

Lestrade nods. "It's probably the worst room in the whole house. They didn't bother as much with the victims."

"So the basement's more important, then?" John guesses.

"Or the most convenient room to start the fire in," Lestrade says. "Right, these are our victims." He rises from behind his desk and strides over to the board, pointing to three pictures depicting three women. The first is probably in her mid-thirties, and she's wearing this slinky black dress with matching silk gloves. Her pale blonde hair is arranged in waves, and she's smiling to display perfectly white teeth.

"That's Verona Archer, and those are her two daughters Aubrey and Alora."

"Twins?"

"Yes, both of them are nineteen, on their gap year. A shame really, from what I can tell they were all very well liked." Lestrade confirms.

John nods slowly, his eyes travelling over to Verona's daughters. They're identical - the pictures are different, one depicts a young blonde girl wearing a sparkly pink dress, and the other depicts a blonde girl that is her mirror image in every way riding a white pony and waving to the camera. "And their father?"

"Ah, their dad died when they were three, of kidney failure. Verona remarried - he died nine years ago, in a car crash. Poor woman, losing both of her husbands." Lestrade answers. "Here's what the Archer family look like now." He grabs another three pictures off his desk and pins them underneath the pictures of the women whilst they were alive.

They're almost impossible to distinguish in death. Their bodies have been charred, their skin turning shrivelled, red and twisted. There's blotchy patches of red and white travelling down their arms, culminating in blackened fingertips that have crumpled to reveal bone. A few strands of their blonde hair has survived, but it's marred with thick blood and ash.

Their bedrooms, too, have been completely burnt. There's dark black smudges running up the walls, smoke stains pooling on the ceilings and floors, their belongings burnt, singed or reduced to piles of ash.

Their faces have been mostly obliterated in the fire, the bedsheets around them singed. There's a matching neck wound on each of them, one that's hard to see as a result of how badly their bodies were burnt. The remaining flesh on their neck has bubbled up into blisters and stuck to the sheets, almost melting off the bone. There's a glint of pale cartilage visible, poking out from between pieces of mangled, burnt skin.

"Their necks were hacked open," Sherlock observes. "There's no hesitation marks, from what I can tell. This wasn't some robbery gone wrong - they were sleeping. They wouldn't have even seen their attacker coming. This looks like a meat cleaver - I'd wager that you could find the murder weapon in their own kitchen. That alone should imply that this was unplanned, and yet, it seems to thoughtfully executed. Delightful."

John blinks rapidly. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, did you just say - you know what, never mind."

"He really hated them - he resented the Archer family more than anything. Do we know if any of the women had recently rejected a man? Broken off a relationship, perhaps?" Sherlock asks.

Lestrade shakes his head. "Not that I'm aware of, but I've got people looking into that avenue - forensics is going through the girls' phones right now."

"He?" John repeats, confusedly.

"About ninety percent of arsonists are male. Most of them are also white and have a low IQ, typically ranging between seventy and eighty. They're almost always either under eighteen, or in their late twenties." Sherlock says. "We can narrow down our search once we get to the scene."

John sighs, exchanging a long-suffering glance with Lestrade. "Sherlock, I hate to break it to you, but there's not much left to see."

"Not for you, but there will be for me." Sherlock says, glancing at John.

"But we're looking for a man, yes?" Lestrade asks.

Sherlock narrows his eyes, his gaze flitting between all of the pictures. "Most likely, yes. But we can't rule out a female suspect yet. It's always possible that it's a scorned female lover rather than a male one, or perhaps she could be acting out of jealousy, if those Archer girls were so well liked."

"Erm, will we even be allowed in the crime scene?" John enquires. "I mean, I imagine it would be quite dangerous, with the house literally crumbling, and all."

Sherlock scoffs, "You're more than welcome to stand outside and watch, John."

---

Central London isn't quite what you expect it to be. The bus ride is a nightmare - the incessant chatter of the other passengers around you sets you on edge. Their conversation is all so mundane, so pitifully boring that it makes you feel almost resentful.

These are people who have always had their freedom - who haven't had to kill and burn their way out of a gilded cage. And they use it to discuss things as asinine as the weather. You long for the depth that you had always been denied, the warmth, the love, the meaning.

It's so strange, that you can sit among them, an outsider - a dark Cinderella - in the midst of rodents that have yet to turn to carriagemen.

You're glad when you get off, and you can escape their dull conversations. Though, the streets are much louder. There's not any pretty, delicate fragments of birdsong to be heard here. There's the occasional squawk of some hungry pigeons vying for food, but no birdsong. The air is rife with pollution - contaminated, tainted by smoke. It's all cigarette smoke or the chemical-smelling kind that billows up from factory chimneys in plumes of white and grey smoke.

It's nothing like the kind you had smelled only earlier today - it's not the corpses of your step-family being reduced to charred remains. That was far more pungent, far sweeter, if only in the way it made you feel.

There's a constant urge to look over your shoulder. You still feel intensely victorious, and full of a pride that burns just as brightly as your house had done mere hours ago. Yet, amongst those addictive, elated kind of feelings, is a sliver of paranoia.

You don't want to get caught, not now. All pictures of you, all evidence even of your existence, had been destroyed first. It had to go, you had to be free to start afresh, to reinvent yourself as the princess rather than as the maid.

Cleaning the house constantly had been so useful. It had taught you a lot about cleaning up after yourself, about making sure that there would be no evidence you were even there. All those surfaces had shined brightly, but so had the knife when you lodged it into their throats.

The streets in London aren't as nice as you had thought they would be. In every alleyway lingers a different shifty person, eyeing passersby carefully, likely determining who they would try to pickpocket next.

There's so much noise, too.

There's the drunken ramblings of men who are going through a midlife crisis and day drinking. They stumble through the streets, seemingly having gravitated towards one another, forming packs of aimless, rowdy men who just want to escape from their lives and live something that's more interesting.

Then, there's the noises of the cars. There's so many cabs, all identical in their sleek, black appearance, hurrying through the streets. And then there's the people hailing them, standing in the streets and raising their hands, calling out loudly.

"Taxi!" Yet another man yells, and you flinch instinctively, automatically turning around to look at him. He's nothing special, nothing dangerous.

In fact, you're probably the most dangerous person on this street. And yet, you remain hypervigilant. There's only the remnants of all that adrenaline in your system, but still, you remain awfully flighty. You are more than aware that soon it's going to wear off and you're going to be absolutely exhausted.

If you were any normal, entirely sane person, by now you would have been concerned at the lack of guilt.

But it wasn't like these deaths were accidental, or spur of the moment attacks. They weren't self-defense.

They were retribution.

They were violent acts of revenge designed over years and years. It was premeditated in every sense of the word. The only thing that could really, truly bring you warmth on those cold nights in the basement wasn't those scratchy blankets. It was the thought that one day you would take them out of this world, and that they would burn for everything they had done to you.

Over the years, the plan itself had taken a great many differing directions. You had planned versions where you would burn them alive, torture them for days on end, or even use something as simple as a poison to achieve your aims - that would have been remarkably easy considering that you did all the cooking. But ultimately, those fantasies had to be short-lived. They fell victim to practicality. Poison wasn't readily available, and the longer your step-family lived, the more likely they would be to escape or attract the attention of any neighbours.

It was your own version of Cinderella. And although you hadn't much planned for after the murders, you knew that if she got to rule a kingdom, then you would, too.

But first, you wanted to find a hotel room. One with nice blankets and decent heating and light walls that didn't remind you whatsoever of that basement. You'd been trawling for a while, ever conscious of the amount of cash you had, and the fact that eventually, you would have to gain some form of employment and find a more permanent housing situation.

The third hotel that you look at is the one you decide is just right. The first had been far too expensive, and the second one had looked like it shouldn't even be in business with how dilapidated it was. It's pretty enough, a grand white towering structure with flowers in all the windows and delicate borders around the windows. The price, which would be steep elsewhere, is decent for London.

You push the door open - it's a glass door with cursive, swirly golden writing emblazoned across it, and a little overhead bell jingles. The lady at the desk's head immediately turns your way, and she gives you a bright smile.

The entrance is spacious, but sparsely furnished, a few simple chairs and tables scattered around, but nobody's using them. Security seems relatively lax here, you can't see any cameras yet, and despite the hotel seeming acceptable to you, it's probably not one of the most popular establishments in London.

You approach the lady at the desk - your eyes immediately darting to her nametag. Emily.

"Hello, how can I help?" She asks, smiling. Her voice is dripping with that faux-sweetness that is innate to anybody working in customer service. It's cheery, and terribly fake - but you can't really bring yourself to feel any contempt for her lack of genuity. For her it's protection, and just a part of her job. It's not malicious.

"I'd like to book a room, please." You reply.

"Sure," She says, her fingers darting to the computer keyboard. "Do you know how long you'll be staying with us for?"

"A week, I think." You decide that it should be enough time for you to get everything together.

The top priorities for you now were evading the police and finding yourself some new documentation so that you could work, and move on with your life.

Emily nods, her finger tapping away and clicking for a few, silent moments. "We have you booked in room 125." She briefly ducks below the countertop, emerging with a keycard in hand.

It's blue, with a curvy lime green stripe swerving up through it. It's not the most impressive graphic design you've ever seen, and it doesn't really match the rest of the hotel, but it's good enough. You take it from her with a smile. "Thank you."

"Enjoy your stay!" She calls out after you, just as you've started to head further into the hotel.

You don't bother to acknowledge her comment. You simply keep walking, wandering around the bottom floor of the hotel lobby. There are these tiny, light-up signs plastered everywhere, giving the guests directions. It doesn't take you long to reach your room once you start following them.

Room one hundred and twenty five is incredibly boring.

The entrance-way is frustratingly narrow, with a cramped bathroom on your left, and a wardrobe on your right. It opens up to a relatively small space - a double bed against the left wall, a TV mounted just opposite it, a desk and some windows with terrible, thin curtains that do nothing to obscure the light.

It's so terribly basic, and the whole place smells like cleaning supplies - that alone makes you recoil. It brings you back to scrubbing each and every surface again and again. It makes your fingers twitch with the urge to just tear it all apart - to pull the curtains from their rails, knock the sparse furniture over and destroy it.

It feels so fake. It's all orchestrated to look appealing - but to you it appears bland and disingenuous.

The smell of bleach permeating from the bathroom makes you flinch. It's so sterile. There's no life in this place. There's nothing real here.

You have to constantly tell yourself over and over again that this is temporary. For a fleeting moment, you feel some kind of pain, a sharp pang of longing for your home - it had been a prison in every sense of the word once both of you parents were gone, but still it was familiar, the safe haven of your childhood where your mother would read you bedtime stories.

In your story, Cinderella would get her palace. Your happily ever after wouldn't be marred by the fact that a few people had died at your hands.

This hotel room is temporary - something to be used briefly and once you've moved on, never to be dwelled upon again. For now, you just have to lay low, and establish your new life here. The hotel room, with it's bland white and beige decor is hardly the fruition of all your planning. It's just another stepping stone.

It's only saving grace is the mattress and the heating. You're all too happy to kick your shoes off and lay face-down on the bed, letting all of the tension in your body go. The sheets, for all that they smell like cheap detergent, are petal-soft beneath your fingers. They're nothing like the ones in that cold, awful basement.

---

It doesn't take long for Sherlock to become a man obsessed.

They had first visited the residence of the victims - the scene of the crime. The Archer home had been destroyed, completely reduced to rubble and ash - even Verona Archer's car had been caught in the blaze, though the damage to the car was inconsequential next to the damage to the house and the lives lost within it.

What had once been a grand, elegantly decorated four-bedroom house was now barely standing. It's roof had caved in, and there were slate tiles strewn throughout the top floor and around the garden. Some beams of wood had been exposed, and many of the bricks had simply tumbled over, left with dark scorch marks over them.

It had been necessary to wear hazard gear within the house, and there was still one fire-engine waiting on the street, just in case the house were to be set aflame again. That was a common procedure, at the very least. A few neighbours would come out every once in a while, looking at the burnt remains of the Archer house in awe and horror.

There wasn't a whole lot actually left of the house.

Sherlock had torn his way down to the basement first, and quickly discerned what most of the items were - bookshelves, and lots of family photographs that didn't survive the blaze. But, most of the items in the basement were really irrelevant. It was the pile of scorched blankets that drew his attention.

"This is where the fire started, then, is it?" John asks, peering down at the blankets - they've melted together in some places, fusing to one another under the extreme heat. The entire house smells awful - the sickly scent of burnt human flesh mixed with gasoline - but the blankets smell awful, too. They were probably, back before they had been reduced mostly to ash, some sort of plasticy-material.

"Of course it is." Sherlock says, flitting around the basement and moving to inspect every little thing. "The Archers weren't the only ones living in the house. They were allowing someone to live in their basement."

"I thought they had four bedrooms?"

Sherlock shakes his head slightly. "Mm, no. One was Verona's closet. They had left their guest to sleep in the basement. The blankets are mostly polyester - they're well-used but they don't match anything upstairs. I think our guest has been down here for quite some time. The basement was a mess before the fire. Ms. Archer keeps things down here that she doesn't particularly like, but can't bring herself to throw away, just in case they become useful later."

"Wait, are you saying that the Archer girls - who, may I remind you, the mother being a grieving widow twice over, and her teenaged daughters - had been keeping somebody in their basement?" John asks, incredulously. He looks up from the pile of blankets and to Sherlock, in utter disbelief.

Sherlock scoffs. "Yes, John. That's exactly what I'm saying. Their guest was probably closely related to them. It's even possible that Verona had a third child. I'm almost certain now that our arsonist is a woman."

"A woman?" John frowns, "I thought you said most arsonists were men?"

"They are. They also tend to have a low intelligence - but she is neither a man, nor is she stupid. No, she's smart. She's smart and she's hurting right now. They're not going to find any evidence. She won't have left any. She's wanted this for a very, very long time." Sherlock whispers. "The rest of the house will be useless - the stairs are liable to give in if we try them. The basement was the only part she cared about. The burning was about obscuring her identity, not her crimes."

Naturally, the next place they turn to is the morgue.

All three bodies are already lain out on metal slabs when Sherlock and John enter, the latter wrinkling his nose. The house had, of course, smelled worse. But the actual scent of a charred corpse right in front of him was still incredibly sickening.

Molly greets them both with a smile, "Hi, Sherlock, - "

Sherlock brushes past her, his hands clasped behind his back. He circles around the bodies, his eyes darting over their wounds, their burnt, blistered skin, and the protruding bones.

The pictures had made Verona, Aubrey and Alora seem to be in even better condition than they were.

Their flesh had sunk, plastering itself to the bone in flaky pieces. They were more a mass of bloody body parts, sullen skin and ash than a real human body. There were a few persistent strands of platinum hair that had survived both the fire and the murder, clinging to their burnt scalps.

"That - oh, my god, the smell," John says between coughs, bringing a pale hand up to clasp it over the bottom half of his face. It was more a gesture of self-soothing than any actual attempt to block out the pungent fumes, but he does step back and momentarily avert his eyes.

Molly winces slightly, her cheery visage disturbed only slightly. "Yeah, I've tried pretty much everything. There's not much you can do for them. Ah, they died in their sleep, at least, so..."

"From the uh," John gestures to his throat, drawing a line across his neck horizontally with his pointer finger.

By far, the most disturbing part of the burnt cadavers is their necks. There's a grand, gaping hole in the charred flesh. It pulls away from itself, ribbons of burnt skin dangling into the throat cavity, and tiny pieces of ripped, hacked skin flaring upwards, soaked in crimson blood. They've been almost decapitated - their heads only very tenuously linked to their shoulders via the back of their necks.

It's much worse in real life - the crime scene photographs hadn't quite captured the depth of the cut.

"Yeah," Molly confirms with a grimace.

"No hesitation marks," Sherlock whispers. "Just as I thought. The twins were killed first. Aubrey, then Alora not soon after. Verona was saved for last - she was the culmination of all of this, the main target, if you will. Our perpetrator hated the twins, yes, but she hated Verona much more. You won't find any gasoline on their bodies. She put the gasoline on the floor, but not her victims. She wanted to obscure her identity but avoid damaging her work as much as possible."

"Okay, but we still don't know who the culprit is, or better yet, where they are." John says.

Sherlock shakes his head. "No, we know lots of things about her. Petite, early twenties. She hates the smell of disinfectant and she hates the cold even more. We can make the assumption that she may not even be Verona's daughter at all - perhaps one of those husbands had an affair, or more likely, a previous marriage that produced Verona's step-daughter."

"So, once again, the Archer girls were keeping a... step-daughter in their basement? And she killed them?" He questions.

"Oh, yes, she absolutely did." Sherlock grins. He sounds terribly fascinated, almost breathless - it's a kind of intrigue that John has only ever seen Moriarty produce in him. It's the kind of intrigue that never ends well. The kind that leaves Sherlock invigorated as he tries to unwrap every tiny mystery, whilst John is probably in some sort of danger.

"Right..." John's voice trails off, dying slowly as he watches Sherlock's eyes light up.

The consulting detective paces around the room, stalking around the bodies, grinning and muttering softly to himself. Moriarty's game is still afoot, but whilst they're waiting for his next move, Sherlock is going to indulge himself with another clever little side quest.

"She was smart. You're probably not going to find her - I mean I can tell she's probably gone to a major city, most likely London, given the proximity and her lack of resources. But, there's not going to be anything about her that's distinguishable from any other girl living in London." Sherlock announces.

"So that's it then. Case closed?" Molly asks, confusion colouring her tone as she folds her arms over her chest.

Sherlock pauses in his stride, and narrows his eyes, going so far as to look mildly affronted. "No, of course not. We're going to find her."

"Of course we are." John groans. "Was it not enough to just identify the unstable murder-arsonist lady?"

"No, John. Don't be silly." Sherlock scoffs. "We're going to find out everything we can about our Cinderella."

John frowns, looking to Molly who still looks equally puzzled. "Cinderella?"

"What else would you call a step-daughter mistreated by her step-mother and step-sisters?"

"I don't think that Cinderella killed her step-family and burnt their house down." John points out, sighing. "She's meant to go to a ball, meet a prince, not try to decapitate her family."

Sherlock dismisses John easily, "Perhaps not in the original version, no. But in this one? Absolutely."

#jim moriarty #jim moriarty x reader

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